


Two in the Bush

by adle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:32:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 38,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adle/pseuds/adle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Goodwill has never been as cursed as it is now for Brienne. One moment of wanting to be a good samaritan has turned out to be a lifetime's worth of headache. And Jaime Lannister seems to be hell bent in making sure she learns her lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The steady beat pulsed through the entire hall and the rhythmic sound of heels hitting the platform set the phase for all the staff working.

Her pencil was drumming on her sketch pad as she watched the models striding on the catwalk in licentious heels. How they manage to not falter in their steps with the thinly heeled shoes, she will never know but she can’t disregard the regality of each long limb ending in the most mystic shoes she had ever seen.

The seeming theme of the show her friend Margaery was assisting with was heavily leaning towards anything crimson, Lannister Red as called nowadays. Patented color for the eponymous fashion house.

She idly traced imaginary lines on her almost forgotten sketching paper with images brought upon the shoes and the clothes that the models were wearing.

Finding much needed inspiration at such a place was a must at that point. After all, Margaery had allowed her the rare opportunity to actually have an inside scoop to one of the most exciting collection of the season. Not many were privilege to such and most definitely not her if not for the golden ticket brought upon the connection of the Tyrells in the industry.

She remembered Margaery’s barbed once against a jealous senior who was vying for the same apprenticeship with Lannister’s Casterly Rock show. With a whip of her curly brown hair, Margaery wittingly retorted that she cares not how she gets in as it matters not about the how’s but what matters most is if one can survive and succeed once in. Be it that she was accused many times of using her grandmother’s connection in the industry, Brienne admires her friend’s strength to let the malicious comment roll off her back.

She watched her friend moved about the stage, directing models movements and expressions as if she has been doing it many years of her life. The vigor that she saw allowed for more images to pour out from her brain to her finger tips and to her pencil and to finally take shape in her pad.

She was grasping the fruition of the high arch, pointed recline in her mind when she was jostled from her daze.

‘Can you get out of my way?’ a haughty voice roused her from her flouting reverie.

As often is the case, whenever she’s caught in her imagination something that had always amused her few close friends, she found herself startled beyond wits making much clattering noise to offset some of the young models walking on the catwalk and catching the attention of many others.

‘Seven hells!’ The same voice exclaimed exasperatedly.

She couldn’t figure out whether to remove herself first or pick up her things that were now littering the floor.

She was so disgruntled that she didn’t notice someone picking up her sketch pad off the floor.

‘You drew this?’ The obviously male voice asked. She had to quell another start before she managed to look at the person talking.

The man was meticulously looking at her sketch pad without giving her a look despite posing a question towards her. It was at that point that she took stock of him. The cogs in her seemingly addled brain started turning, golden blond hair, bright green eyes, two-days’ worth of scruff, grey suit and the same red she was staring at the last hour for a tie. Jaime Lannister.

‘What are we waiting here for? Dragons to hatch?’ The same haughty voice filled in again.

Jaime Lannister finally looked up, more to give the owner of the haughty voice an exasperated look but settled on her instead.

‘You’re a man, no?’ He asked genuinely bewildered.

At that, the woman laughed and Brienne finally looked over at the female seemingly overcame by ill humor. If Jaime Lannister took her a while to recognize, seeing the woman was of instant recognition. Cersei Lannister, the other half of the Lannister twins.

Cersei Lannister was laughing boisterously yet still delicate ways of her and not little did it contain derision reserved all for her.

‘Oh, Jamie! How can you be so rude?’ She chastised but her tone and laugh was dripping with mockery. A hot flush crawled quickly on Brienne’s skin, immediately she could feel everyone’s eyes on her and the embarrassment made her want to run but at the same time frozen on the spot.

The male Lannister shook his head but there was an indulgent smile on his lips as he perused her appearance. Her short straw colored hair, the plaid shirt thrown over a worn t-shirt, cargo pants that have seen much much better days and combat boots that although comfortable have definitely have one too many scuffs. She knew she was not up to par compared to anyone else in that hall filled with both beautiful and fashionable people. And of course no one would even dare think of comparing her appearance with Cersei Lannister that despite the scathing insulting laugh remained ethereal with her flowing locks framing an expertly made up face.

‘This your work, girl?’ He asked again and calling her girl grated at her nerves.

‘It is,’ she said and finding movement with her limbs grabbed the sketch pad none too gently out of the most renowned photographer this side of the world. ‘And if you’ll excuse me.’

Disregarding the pencil that rolled off her hand she turned and with a stiff spine walked away looking at the nearest bend as if a shore of safety.

She could still hear Cersei Lannister’s laugh and maybe half imagined the low chastising voice of Jaime Lannister to his twin sister.

Not a minute later Margaery was behind her, headset and the clipboard she was holding scarce from her.

‘Don’t mind those two, spoiled brats that they are.’

Brienne laughed mirthlessly.

‘You and I know that if there’re two people who can act as spoiled and rotten in this world, it’s them.’

Margaery just snorted in acquiescence as it is true.

‘So I can’t be bothered really.’ She supplied some more. Margaery just looked at her as she stared straight ahead willing the embarrassment to leave her system and the girl thought better than to further comment.

‘Well, I’m hungry. I think it’s as good time as any to take a break now that her majesty Cersei chose to grace us with her presence.’

Margaery insisted that she watch the show three days after the incident. She fervently wanted to say no using the remaining portfolio she needed to finish in time as an excuse but she was outdone by the girl’s tenacity.

It was not like she was making any progress holed inside her apartment. The ideas that flooded her before seemed to all retract inside her brain to nothing but mere vignettes that she can almost see but not very clearly.

With a defeated sigh, she put herself inside the only trouser Margaery deemed appropriate for the event and a white button down shirt. The Tyrell wanted her to slip on a heeled shoe but she put her foot down against it sighting that she attracts more unwanted attention already with her height as it is and certainly another three inches would just be catastrophic in her books. So she slipped on a loafer of her own designs that was built for comfort more than anything.

The hall was unrecognizable from just a few days ago. The whole space was transformed to all shine and luster, of heat and softness. She had heard of Lannister’s richness but it was her first time seeing the proof of it with her own eyes. The antique tapestries adorning the walls with depiction of a history that is no doubt the family’s were most possibly not imitations. Even the vases and bowls, the tables they rest on and the chaises and couch tastefully placed inside the space for invited guests to seat upon were from a period and price range that would make anyone tear up in amazement.

She appreciatively traced the embroidery on one of the chairs, tracing the intricate work forming the lion’s face with golden thread and precious stone for its eyes. The furniture left her in awe and with images for designs it inspired her with. Her fingers were itching to sketch and she grasped for her bag just to find none on her side.

Margaery insisted that her knapsack was surely out of place for the event so she was left with nothing but a small purse she fumbled clumsily with. She was not made for anything so small in her hands.

She tried to find any passable paper after locating a pen in her borrowed purse. But the place didn’t deem paper napkins acceptable and she didn’t think it would go unnoticed if she started drawing on the table cloth gilded with Lannister red.

So Brienne made her way around all the furniture and guests but without not a few pointed looks towards her. It was fortunate that she was just eager to get a hold of paper to put her ideas into something tangible that she disregarded the tedious comments about her height or her appearance.

She vaguely remembers the passage towards the backstage. It was a nice coincidence to find a familiar face standing by one of the doors leading to the back. It was Sam who she was able to meet a few days ago when she came to watch the rehearsal. The younger man allowed her access when she mentioned she was in search for Margaery who stole her bag filled with her needed paraphernalia.

The backstage was as chaotic if not more compared to the media outside. Models and staff alike were bustling in an organized melee preparing for the show. She didn’t see the familiar form of her friend so she took liberties in walking around dodging people.

Brienne found herself in the quieter side of private dressing rooms and resting areas. The place was definitely deserted as everyone was mostly gathered at the general prep area. She was about to turn back when she heard voices.

Regularly she was not much of a curious person. Having a very curious father Brienne had learned to be cautious for the both of them. Never stick your nose into things you have no business with, never dip a finger in a pot you can’t see inside of.

She heard a clatter and she jumped. There was groan soon after. It wasn’t curiosity but mere reflex to aide someone who could possibly be hurt so she turned back with hurried steps to see what the noise was all about. Never had she thought that Tarthian chivalry was just about to turn her world upside down.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaime up to the very moment he was already outside his father’s office dismissed and dissatisfied and confused failed to understand how everything had come about.

In his mind he tried to piece together the events that the last few days were made of.

He remembered her sister’s tirade. He recalled the many drinks he took as he bore Cersei’s usual diatribe of complaints towards their father, almighty Tywin Lannister.

Cersei had been begging, pleading, and demanding for their father to allow her to head the Lannister Fashion house. The patriarch’s dismissal is understandable. For all his love for his dear sister Jaime knew that certain qualities their father trust for anyone to run a facet of the lion’s empire were lacking from her. Not to add the fact that she has too much of some that Tywin deemed unsuitable of someone wanting to hold on to any part no matter how small of the conglomerate he had built.

He remembered lacking the usual patience he arms himself in his sister’s presence. He’s been wanting to go to his apartment since early afternoon, his fingers had been itching to get a hold of his charcoal wanting to capture an illicit image floating in the periphery of his mind. But when he tried to extricate himself Cersei had not let him. With a measured kiss and skillful stroke, he was a man on a leash. A very short leash it seemed.

‘Jaime!’ His sister’s voice commanded his immediate attention. She was looking at him with the very same pair of eyes he knew all too well resides on his own face. It was safe to say that Cersei knew his distraction. She needn’t had to say anything further to get a response from him.

He has heard of this particular passion of his golden twin.

She, Cersei Lannister, the only flower in Tywin Lannister’s brood of three, have been the paragon of beauty ever since she emerged from the womb of their mother. At the age of 15 she became the face of anything deemed en vogue by the society. Upon entering the age of majority she began to dominate the runways and became the muse of anyone who deemed themselves a somebody.

The fame suited her. The attention she was bathed with made her all the more beautiful. Cersei flourished in the limelight she commanded. But all of it fed her innate arrogance as well and it was something that Tywin Lannister did not care to indulge.

Three times Cersei proposed the idea and three times was she rejected tersely by their father.

‘You must convince father, Jaime.’ She demanded. With Cersei, any favor you do her is your honor. She never asks, she mandates. Even to her very own twin brother.  
As mentioned, his usual patience was missing.

‘Cersei, nothing in these seven hells would make the great Tywin Lannister change his mind when it comes to his beloved empire. Not you, not me. Live with it.’ He impatiently retorted.

‘You won’t even try?’ Her eyes narrowed into slits, the green eyes so like his own almost unrecognisable in quick sign of anger.

In other times Jaime might have placated her, soothed her growing irritation but his mind was just elsewhere. His mind was of sketch he was itching to do, a sudden bout of inspiration ever since that afternoon. Ever since he picked up that sketchbook.

‘Get out.’ Cersei hissed. It caught his wayward attention for once. ‘You’re useless.’ She spat.

He looked at his sister, her beautiful face pinched with obvious ire. It seems all her discontent and hurt, nothing of which was caused by her brother, had all resulted to indignation and anger she now all directed at him.

Deep inside he was glad to be given leave. He would take note of this particular trick for next time. He approached her to give her a kiss before he drives like a madman to his private studio at his apartment.

He took her mouth, red and luscious, with his. Her sinful lips in lust and it seems even in anger always stirs his cock. He momentarily forgot what he had wanted to do, to kiss her goodbye and then hastily leave.

He was grinding himself at his sister, his hands catching her behind and pulling her body closer. In his mind he thought he was about to get the lure that his golden twin baited him with earlier, a fuck he hasn't had in a while because of her many out of country stints.

He was unprepared for the forceful push Cersei game him. Dazed, he stared at her.

‘Leave, Jaime. I have no need of you.’ Rejection was all over her face. She had turned her back at him completely dismissing his presence, very reminiscent of their father.

He watched until she disappeared further down the hall of her opulent penthouse before turning his back as well and exited.

 

Upon reaching his apartment, his head was swimming with images that his twin sister’s rejection was long forgotten. It was the clamber of the morning’s trash collector that woke him up from his stupor the following day. The desk, the floor, and pretty much every other flat surface were filled with sheets of paper, sketches upon sketches of still objects of every shape and form.

He took a deep breath as he felt the tell-tale signs of his brain unburdened. His fingers felt cramped and his hands blackened from the continuous strain of holding charcoal. He was tired, he was exhausted but invigorated.

He couldn't remember the last time he was so inspired that there was an uncharacteristic giddiness unlikely of a man his age. Certainly, Cersei won’t let slide such childlike behaviour from him.

Freed from being a captive of inspiration, he shook the sleep off his eyes. He tripped on his phone lying on the floor beneath more paper. He picked up and was reminded of his sister.

He was feeling a lot lighter and knew he should be contacting Cersei and try to calm her down. His sister is not very magnanimous to people who disobeys her will.

Dialling on his phone as he made his way to his coffee machine, he grimaced at the sight of his kitchen. The line rang a couple of times before it clicked and the disconnected tone can be heard.

He stared at his phone and dialled again. Tyrion did always say his thick when it comes to their dear sister. But the same thing happened again, the disconnecting tone rang blaringly to his ears.

‘Did you just reject my calls?’ He typed the messaged and quickly sent it smiling at her sister’s tantrum.

‘If you won’t make yourself useful you have no business with me.’ The quick reply from her sister wiped the patronizing smile on his lips.

‘My cock deemed useless to you now?’

‘Convince father, Jaime.’

The incredulous laugh emerged from his lips. For Cersei to believe he was capable of changing their father’s mind is flattering but futile. He put down his phone thinking nothing more of his twin’s demands.

A fool was what he is when he turned on the TV later that day.

He let out a deprecating laugh as he watched her sister smile for the multitude number of flashing cameras vying to get the money shot of what seemed to be deemed as a powerhouse couple. Cersei was beautiful as she hung on the arms of Robert Baratheon, the brute of a man.

Countless of times he dialled her number, indignant for an explanation from his twin. The two just announced an engagement as if it was long overdue, as if the relationship had been going on for ages rather than Cersei just emerging from his bed not a few weeks ago fucking sexually sated because of him and not the damn Baratheon. Countless of times his call was directed to voicemail.

Frustrated and in the foothill of a mounting rage, he grabbed his keys and drove off to the skyscraper of which the penthouse was Cersei’s self-proclaimed stronghold.

He waited and waited, for hours he stood by her door. No one opened the door, no one left and no one came. At least not until it was already the hour when he should have long gone home and to hell with Cersei and whatever explanation she owed to him.

His sister emerged from the elevator with the same regalness as she wore in front of the nation earlier in the televised event. None of the city filth nor the wearisome of the day marred her beauty and awe inspiring countenance.

When she saw him standing by her door like the jilted lover he really was she just continued on her way with merely a pointed look his way.

She was graceful even while stepping off her shoes.

‘You look horrid, Jaime.’ She said, the scorn on her voice palpable.

‘Hello to you too, sister.’ He watched as she untied the knot holding her dress on her delicate neck so fragile looking his hands always seemed too rough against.

He waited for her to explain but he realized he was not going to get any without him voicing his questions. His sister was never known to give out anything willingly. It always had to be pried from her.

‘What the fuck was that all about?’ He spat. He wasn’t a patient man and the hours of not knowing what was happening or to whom he would get his answer had brought him to the end of his rope.

‘It is what it is, brother.’ Cersei answered without caring to look at him.

‘The hell it is!’ He roared. ‘Are you telling me that you’re marrying that bastard?’ He heard her sigh exasperatedly as she tried to walk towards her bedroom.

He grabbed her arm and tugged her to turn and face him.

‘Answer me, Cersei!’

‘Yes!’ Cersei screamed at him. ‘I am marrying, Robert!’ He was momentarily stunned. Her answer was slow to be absorbed by his brain.

‘What?’

‘He would give me what you and father refuse to give to me. What I deserve!’ Her eyes were burning bright. Scorn and hate, hurt and pain. ‘Father thinks I’m nothing more but beautiful face, incompetent and useless. And you---you!’

He flinched. She didn’t put to words any accusation but the venom of it was present none the less.

‘What about me?’ He asked in suppressed emotion. ‘What about me, Cersei?’

‘You have no ambition, Jaime.’ She shrugged from his hold. ‘Father will give you anything even if you don’t work hard for it. You’ll never understand.’

‘It’s you.’ He murmured. ‘It’s only you I’ve always wanted.’

Cersei turned to him, for a moment her face melted into the face of his lover once more. She reached out her palm and he stepped closer to her touch. He felt her palms caressed her jaw.

‘If I had the choice, I would have picked you. But father,’ she looked at him and the plea was in her voice once more. Convince father.

‘I’ll talk to father.’ He conceded and she smiled as if dark clouds parted to reveal scorching bright sun.

‘Do that, for me. For us.’ He reached for her and took her mouth like he always did. He tried to fight off the image of her kissing Baratheon. It doesn’t matter. She’s back in his arms now.

Cersei pushed away from him when his hands traveled down the hem of her dress, fisting the flimsy material on his hand. His body was humming. All the tension drained away from his system and the need to affirm their bond fueled his untended lust.

He palmed her thighs, parting her feet to make space for his body to come closer to her. The silky cloth of her lingerie was maddeningly tortuous. How he want to plunge himself inside her and satiate his need for her, her need for him. He knows she wanted him, she was warm and moist. He was ready to press her up the wall and take her as soon as he could but Cersei’s hands stopped and pushed.

‘I’m tired, Jaime.’ Her hand caressed her face before she turned away once more.

He was stiff hard, aching and in pain. He palmed himself with a groan.

‘I’ll see you when you’ve talked to father.’ I’ll give you what you want when you deliver what I want. Jaime heard the condition. He wasn’t an idiot.

 

His father sat on his table. The heavy set table was clear of clutter. The man, the legend Tywin Lannister. To many he inspires awe and idolatry, mostly to many aspiring entrepreneurs or any joeblow who dreams of making it big. His stature despite his age still demanded much attention, respect and fear from all his subordinate and a few he may call peers.

But to his three children it was a convoluted mix where one does not know when respect and fear start and end.

‘Let Cersei take a hold of Lannister Fashion.’ He broke the quiet his father so easily commands to unnerve anyone in his presence. Jaime had been at the many ends of his father’s usual ways, not that he ever got immune to it. 

Tywin Lannister gave him a look, a moment of his attention away from the documents he was perusing.

‘Cersei doesn’t have what it takes to head it.’

‘She does.’ He argued. He knew his sister was competent in her own ways but under his father’s scrutiny he knew his argument for Cersei at most was weak.

‘I would not have a profitable arm of this company grow weak and crippled to feed your sister’s ego.’

‘It’s not like we will go down even if a season under her doesn’t make profits.’

His father put down the document he was reading when Jaime first arrived. The man pointedly stared at him.

‘You and your sister have grown complacent and ignorant.’ Tywin’s voice was cutting and Jaime felt like a chastised child once more. ‘We will be fine even if half of the conglomerate falls. Your capricious life will be well sustained, your unproductive hobbies supported. But the world doesn’t revolve around the two of you. Many smaller men rely in the half-pennies that fall off your pocket.

‘One season you say? No profits? A failed venture? A stain to our credibility. Think before you speak, boy. You don’t value what you don’t understand.’ His father was clearly unimpressed with him but he couldn’t just back down. It was his and Cersei’s lives on the line whether their father knows of it or not.

‘Cersei threatens to marry that Baratheon. He promised to give her reign on Vale.’

His father scoffed before going back to the documents he deemed much important than his son.

‘Then he will get the first hand lesson why I denied Cersei. If he’s foolish enough to let his libido control his company I’ll not be one to blame.’

Jaime shot up from his seat.

‘You’d let your daughter whore herself to that bastard for something so small you can give her yourself!’

‘I did not condone this idea. Your sister decided this on her own and she won’t be convinced otherwise. If not for Robert’s inane idea of letting your sister run a company, it is a good match for marriage by all means.’

‘What do you mean?’ He asked in a much lower voice.

‘I advised Baratheon it was an unwise decision to let Cersei ruin such a fine company.’

‘When?’ He asked. ‘When did you talk to Robert?’

‘When? Well, when he informed me of his plan on marrying your sister.’ The disgusted and reprimanding look of his father was missed as his words spin on his head. 'Early this year.'

Earlier this year, six months ago, three months ago? When he fucked Cersei every chance they got, the small window in between her trips, the short hours they could spend together between their scheduled jobs. She failed to mention anything, she failed to let him know anything at all.


	3. Chapter 3

She stood behind the half opened door, rooted and incomprehensive.

Her father had always commended her for wanting to help any chance posed upon her. She’d always thought it a good character. Help the little old lady carry her groceries, help the neighborhood kids fix up their bikes, join the community drive, volunteer for the shelter. It was something being brought up in Tarth makes one to be. A small almost isolated town such as theirs needs all the help from its townfolks. She was always endearingly eager to lend a hand said Mrs. Roelle in her patronizing ways.

At the age of 10 Brienne stopped thinking much about Mrs. Roelle’s condescending remarks when she realized the old lady was just innately patronizing no matter who she was speaking with. But she should have listened at least to one bit of her warning given with a snorted sneer, she said one day soon you’ll find yourself in trouble with your overzealous need to help.

Who she recognized first was his broad shoulders. She didn’t realize she remembered it as well as she did. But there he was, the long golden hair mussed by fingers with nails in blood red polish. She thought as she saw that those talons could possibly gouge and fray skin.

Then there was his voice unmistakable as he groaned the name of the woman pressed on the wall atop a serviceable table. ‘Cersei,’ the guttural voice as if lost in the moment rang in her ears.

It was the twins, the goddamn Lannister twins screwing each other in the dressing room.

Jaime Lannisters hands disappeared between their bodies, long shapely limbs wrapped around his torso.

‘Yes!’ Seductive keening voice rang in the tiny room as Cersei Lannister threw her head back in a plain show of ecstasy.

‘No other man can make you cum as well, Cersei. Only me, my cock. Remember that when you fuck Baratheon!’ The male of the golden twins said harshly before he pulled his hand away from between Cersei Lannister’s thighs.

The short moment of being frozen was the small window of opportunity to make herself scarce and Brienne lost that moment. A sliver of a second later, two sets of green eyes were focused on her.

No shock nor panic were in their eyes. They looked at her as if she was beneath the two of them, not worthy to cause anxiousness despite the obvious fact of her being a witness to something so irrevocably damaging to both of them.

Jaime Lannister was looking at her direction but she realized very soon that he was in fact looking past her. His eyes were void, the anger of his voice wasn’t reflected in his verdant eyes. It was hollowed and hurt. He inadvertently ignored her as he walked passed and exited the changing room.

And she, Brienne, remained frozen on the spot. Not seeing.

‘What the hell are you standing there for?’ The vicious voice of Cersei Lannister awoke her from being petrified. ‘Get out, you freak!’

Brienne stumbled at her feet as she made haste in turning to leave. Cersei Lannister flicked the hem of her dress down and she saw her for the slightest bit of a second looked pained, as pained as her brother.

She couldn’t think further but at least Cersei Lannister’s command seemed to take hold of her body as her feet scrambled to get away, farther from the site of what seemed to be a surreal dream. But it was real, their voices so foreign and yet now so ingrained in her system, ringing on and on.

As she turned the bend she was painfully jerked by a strong grip on her arm. She was ready to throw a punch at whoever was trying to manhandle her but her flinging fist was caught and wrestled to her side by a palm the same size as her own.

Jaime Lannister pressed her to the wall, forcefully holding her in place.

‘Don’t breathe a word of it.’ He said, the threat palpable with just so few words.

She stared at him, meeting the determined eyes boring down at her.

‘Not a word!’ He hissed, his face so close to hers.

Brienne could only nod dumbly.

‘Say it,’ he demanded further as his grip on her arm pressed tightly, painfully.

‘Not a word,’ she murmured and she meant it.

He looked at her as if gauging the sincerity of her given vow. And as if satisfied with what he saw he let go of her as if she was unclean and should be wiped off. Indignation and embarrassment warmed her skin.

She couldn’t help but laugh to herself at the irony of the events. It was them who she caught in the most compromising situation that the media would devour if she so let out a squeak but it was her who cowered into submission as if she was the one who had something to hide.

‘Gods! Why were you even there? Or here!’ He exclaimed. Jaime Lannister looked torn between anger and exasperation, like his patience was at world’s end for her. He looked at her who was still plastered on the wall once more unable to move as much as how his twin made her scamper.

‘I--,’ He glared at her as she tried to explain, why she even want to explain she doesn’t know. But as the shock of the events wore off, her own frustration mounted up. It wasn’t her who has something to hide.

She pushed herself away from the wall and Jaime Lannister just looked at her as if half-amazed that she was talking in his presence.

‘I thought someone got hurt!’ She blurted with a wave of her hand.

‘What?’ The golden man even in confusion looked devastatingly perfect in furrowed brows.

‘I heard a groan!’ Her own voice was raised as a self-defence when Jaime Lannister turned towards her once more.

He squinted at her and then he was guffawing in uncontrolled laughter.

‘You, you heard a groan, someone---hurt!’ The boom of his laughter made her uneasy as if what she said was senseless, an idiocy. When he was able to breathe a bit better after laughing so much he grabbed his arm once more and pulled her further down the hall.

What an odd pairing they must be to the passing crew who looked at them as the male Lannister dragged her effortlessly not very many could do to her.

‘Woman, woman.’ He said finally letting her arm go when they were once again away from most of the people. She mused on the fact that for all the chaos outside there were so many empty areas on this side. ‘Tell me your name, you.’

Brienne was huffing still and unconsciously massaging the arm that he was gripping only a minute ago. It was warm. Jaime Lannister looked on at the movement perhaps a bit regretful.

‘I asked for your name, woman.’ Annoyance was on his face not impressed with her momentarily lack of attention towards him.

‘You didn’t ask, you demanded.’ She muttered under her breath and he only raised one perfect eyebrow at her she could never attempt to try least she wanted to look ridiculous with lazy eyes. It’s not like her face lack in things unpleasant to look at as it is.

‘Your name, wench.’ He said seemingly not appreciating her retort.

‘Brienne. It’s Brienne.’ She muttered twice when he cocked his head closer.

‘Here’s how things will be, Brienne.’ The sound of her name with his voice, mockingly dragging the few syllables unwittingly and annoyingly she felt a tingling in her spine because of it.

She gave him her full attention, even if she didn’t want to it will be taken anyways. For knowing the man just a short time she now partly understood the fascination of the masses about the golden Lannisters.

‘You’ll give me your word not to breathe to anyone about what you saw. If I hear a peep about it from someone’s mouth, I will hunt you. I will hunt you down and there’s no place you can hide yourself that I won’t find.’ He paused as if wanting to let his words sink in.

Jaime Lannister took several steps towards her again and she noticed that he closely matched her in height. He probably intended to loom over her, intimidate her, but given her own build he failed.

Brienne at the realization gathered herself and glared back at Jaime Lannister.

The man was forced to take a step back when he placed her palms on his suited chest and pushed.

‘Stop telling me what to do. And stop threatening me.’ She glared harder at him, the glare she had perfected to scare all the jackasses who liked to test her patience ever since she was five. ‘I’m not an idiot, Mr. Lannister.’ She spat his name, any awe the name may have inspired from any other was lost on her. ‘Who you fool around matters not to me, I don’t care. And the least I want for my life is to be involved with you or anyone associated with you.’ She pushed her way around him with the full intent to have the last word in that conversation. She swore to herself she will avoid those two as if her life depended on it.

She willed herself not to start running and keep the dignity she wished her firm statement ought to have given her. But before she could get farther she heard him talk again.

‘We’re in agreement then, wench. And for the sake of the seven, do yourself a favor and learn how fucking sounds or you’ll be walking in on one too many ruts.’

She couldn’t help but look back and glower at him. The insufferable man was grinning as he took to leaning on the wall seeming relax like the whole chain of events wasn’t as dire as what it was.

She’s just glad she wouldn’t have to see him anymore. Margaery would just have to take her word for it when she say Lannister fashion house will make her break out in hives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised myself to post one chapter a day when I decided to put this harebrained idea into writing. So far, I've been keeping my promise. I just hope that the plot won't suffer and the lack of thorough editing won't be too obvious. But if so, my apologies already. I'll try not to procrastinate so I'll have ample time to edit before I post tomorrow's chapter.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

She was laughing and smiling like nothing had happened. She was flinging her hair flirtingly, charming the pants off of every man within 3 meters of her.

Cersei Lannister clung to Robert Baratheon’s arm like it’s the life support she had always wanted. She looked at him like all her prayers if she had prayed ever to be answered all in one man. And it hurt. It hurt so much Jaime Lannister wanted to tear Baratheon in pieces to ease his pain.

But instead all he could do was drown himself in the free flowing alcohol that the affluent of Westeros are indulging with bought by Lannister gold.

All the who’s who of King’s Landing and its neighboring countries were all there to show themselves off in hopes of bumping shoulders with Tywin Lannister. Regrettably so, the Lannister patriarch did not grace them with his presence. Without the man himself to overshadow everyone else by his attendance the limelight was up for grabs by anyone. Or they could at least try and yet fail.

Hence, the ridiculous and boisterous boasting of deeds and achievements of even their ancient predecessors could be heard in every conversation to one up the other.

He glowered at two approaching men to dissuade them from trying to make acquaintance of him. Jaime had lost count of the imbeciles he sent scampering away, men and women of all ages, with friendly or lascivious intents both.

For all his impending intoxication he knew to avoid conversations lest he sputter things he should not let slip his tongue in fury. Cersei’s cold reproach when he tried to catch her gaze was damning. He hated the fact that he understood all too well what her wintry countenance meant. She was able to push back their illicit encounter only an hour ago behind the façade of fawning at her recently announced fiancé.

There was untold threat in her few gazes, making sure he keeps his mouth shut, make certain that he had cleaned up after them. He knew of his sister too well. Despite the bitter fight between them, Cersei was assured that he would do nothing that will cause her harm. She banked on his loyal affection.

He grimaced at his twin’s audacity. Cersei insulted him, his pride, his manhood and even his love for her. It was his love for her that was one he knew was his and took quiet pride of. But she gouged it and trampled over it. Her dreams found more foothold in her than he did it appeared.

He failed to convince their father. Tyrion the clever, laughed when he heard of his effort. Pityingly, his younger brother patted his lower back in a show of consolation. They both knew what futile an attempt it would have been from the beginning.

_‘You’re the most beautiful idiot I’ve ever met, bro.’ __Tyrion commented, a remark both for his effort to persuade Tywin Lannister from his decision and underlying admonishment for his affair with their sister. And he could only glare back at his younger brother._

Cersei knew the answer he got from their father almost immediately. When he tried to meet her, to plead for his case, with her back turned towards him she just stood in a pose as if for a camera and how he wanted to catch the image. But the beauty of it wasn’t just all her physical looks, the forlorn and regret in her stooped shoulder and resigned smile made it enigmatic. If only it had stayed long enough.

His twin sister looked at him from over her shoulders, he remembered. She stared at him for a bit and restated what every media source has been feasting in printing and televising about. _‘I’m marrying Robert.’ __Disappointment, anger, once more all towards him. She blamed him. It was all his fault in her eyes and he didn’t realize he was slowly and yet surely absorbing her accusations as if it was the truth. Her truth, his reality._

His hand shook, his drink sloshing over the rim. He took one big swallow before he unceremoniously flung it on the floor startling the nearby huddled groups.

Jaime scanned the room plotting for a fast exit so as not to witness anymore of his sister’s sickening show of affection to another man.

He walked towards the nearest exit, all be damned as they watch him unmistakeable with his intent to leave the event his family’s colors hosts. He couldn’t care anymore less. But for all his bravado his eyes once more were attracted to where he knew his golden twin was.

But Cersei wasn’t there. He stopped and inadvertently scanned the brimming hall, overflowing with people who gave ignorant if not empty praises to the lavish décor hardly appreciating the history or the artistry of every piece of furniture and tapestry they gazed upon.

Jaime would think much much later as to why his feet started moving one after the other towards the direction where he saw the familiar gold strands of her sister’s hair disappear following the straw-colored hair sticking out to one too many direction.

He elbowed his way in between shrieking matrons and superfluous bald and pot bellied men. He strode as a man on a mission.

In the darker hallway, he immediately saw the ridiculously tall woman backed by his much fragile looking twin sister. A passerby might not believe that it was the bigger of the two that was in dire need of saving. He knew all too well how merciless and a bitch his sister could be.

‘Brienne!’ He called aloud.

Two pairs of eyes looked at him bright in contrast to the shadows, both recognizing him immediately in their own ways. One pair was like looking at a mirror and the other, the other was so blue, so blue he never knew such color possible for such a woman.

Cersei glared at him as he purposely walk closer at the two women.

‘You know her?’ The incredulous tone on her sister’s voice didn’t bode well for him or for Brienne.

‘Come with me,’ pointedly ignoring his sister he directed his instruction to Brienne. The foolish woman instead of snapping into movement just stared at him like he sprouted a second head. ‘Come, Brienne.’ He said again, not liking the trend of repeating himself with Brienne.

‘What is happening here?’ Cersei whispered in a half contained voice not liking being ignored as much as he does.

He gave his sister a piercing look. Making a point of not giving her the cosseting she was so used to getting from him.

‘Let’s go.’ His hand wrapped around the nearest limb of Brienne’s and pulled her towards him. The recognizable scent of Cersei pervaded the little space the three of them occupied in that short moment before he stepped away with the full intent of dragging Brienne with him.

But he was stopped from walking away when Brienne yelped in pain. He instantly let go of her arm and expecting Brienne snapping at him but she was looking at Cersei and at the other arm his twin sister was gripping, red nails digging at Brienne’s pale skin. 

‘Jaime,’ Cersei’s voice held warning for him. She didn’t let go of Brienne as she stared at him, a conversation only the two of them were privy of. 

_What is the meaning of this?_

_None of your goddamn business._

_It is my business!_

_Well, fuck you!_

____And he took hold of Brienne’s arm again with the full intent of getting away from Cersei while they still both can unscathed._ _ _ _

____‘What the hell is wrong with the two of you?’ Someone snapped and he wasn’t all too surprised when it was Brienne._ _ _ _

____She easily pried her arms from their grips and glowered at the both of them, towering, chiding and disbelieving._ _ _ _

____‘I don’t want anything to do with the two of you so can you just leave me alone.’ Brienne said with sharp looks that for some reason reminded him of someone so familiar from the past, fleeting thought. ‘I’m leaving.’ She murmured to no one in particular and he could hear her muttering, he couldn’t blame her if she was cursing him and his twin up to the last strands of their hairs._ _ _ _

____She marched off without looking back and he wanted to do the same, preferably soon. He was about to when he felt the sharp nails on his arm._ _ _ _

____‘Jaime, you can’t just let her go! She will tell people!’ There was frantic panic in Cersei’s voice and in her eyes. It was the vulnerability she rarely shows. It was only with him that she will be ever willing to show it. He wondered if Baratheon will see it now too._ _ _ _

____He placed his hand over Cersei’s. It remained there touching her warm skin disregarding the pain of her nails sinking on his wrist she gripped._ _ _ _

____His fingers, his fingers almost caressed her soft skin. Jaime looked at her, the panic, the plea._ _ _ _

____‘Brienne won’t tell anyone.’ He believed Brienne, an unfounded trust on a stranger’s words._ _ _ _

____‘How can you be sure?’Cersei shrieked irritated with his evident conviction. ‘How do you even know that freak’s name?’_ _ _ _

____‘She has a name.’_ _ _ _

____‘Who cares, Jaime? Make her quiet. She can’t ruin this for me. No one can ruin this for me!’_ _ _ _

____Jaime sneered at her sister’s words. ‘Obviously.’ No one, not even him. Not what they have or had._ _ _ _

____His fingers on top of hers stilled and he pulled her blood red nails off of him._ _ _ _

____He held her hand for a beat longer. And he walked away. He walked away without succumbing to the need, to the desire to take one more look at her. He heard her voice calling him. It was hissed, whispered, unwanted to be heard by anyone else. She could have run after him but no she couldn’t afford to do that. People will see, people will ask. It might ruin things for her. But of course he won’t ruin things for her. He’s just Jaime, he is just her brother, the brother who fucked her half their lives together._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Jaime took a big gulp of air as soon as he stepped out from the cloistered hall of where the fashion show happened, where his sister’s scent permeated the whole space._ _ _ _

____He closed his eyes, willing all the images in his mind, memories of them together taunting him, to be gone._ _ _ _

____His will was weakening just from remembering his sister, immediately he wanted to run back inside and take her back to his arms, run away with her. They can live far away, they don’t need any of the golds and the fame, they don’t need anything else. Cersei will realize it soon enough. They just need each other, just like before._ _ _ _

____He was ready, he was willing, he wanted to. Jaime turned to go back but as he did so he collided with a wall sending him on the floor with a force._ _ _ _

____He heard a groan._ _ _ _

____‘What is wrong with my luck!’ The wall exclaimed. ‘A Lannister! Again!’_ _ _ _

____Instead of getting up, Jaime laid still on the ground. He laughed. He laughed loud and long. And he didn’t care. His belly hurt._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out faster than expected and it's honestly all because of your wonderful and encouraging comments.
> 
> As I wrote this part, I saw the characters, imagined them moving and talking. I can hear them. But writing is like trying to retell events that you witnessed but everything just happened so fast I couldn't grab all the details in the periphery. The more vivid it is, the more details I feel like I'm leaving out.
> 
> Either way, I hope you guys enjoyed the update!


	5. Chapter 5

Brienne was furious.

All she wanted was paper and look at what it got her into.

For such high personalities of Westeros, why do these Lannisters seem to be loitering everywhere she went?

‘Seriously!’ She groaned as she corrected herself feeling the pain on her chest from the collision. She had endured enough manhandling for this evening.

The assailant however was oblivious to her irritation. He was lying on the ground without a care in the world, with eyes closed and a leftover of the hearty if not inane howl of a laughter he bellowed a few seconds ago on his mouth.

‘Help me up, Brienne.’ Jaime Lannister commanded, that tone can’t be mistaken for anything else but an order from a man used to giving it and expecting to be followed.

Brienne has had enough surely. She waded her way around his lying form and walked away wanting with all her heart to leave and forget all about tonight. Sadly it meant as well that the inspiration that pushed her to look for damn papers was floating quickly away from her mind.

A frustrated sob emerged from her lips. She was already wallowing in the loss when Jaime Lannister made himself annoyingly appear again.

She stopped from walking when Jaime Lannister walked just a few steps beside her.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m heading this direction.’ He said and pointed nowhere in particular. She groaned before grabbing her phone to dial for a cab.

When she marched away from the Lannister twins, she knew immediately she had to leave that place. She searched and found Margaery and hastily gave her compliments for a great show and told her she had to go. Margaery just gave her a look and she promised to tell her about it when they see each other again. Her friend would wring an explanation whether she liked it or not, she need to fabricate a simple truth to supply Margaery since she couldn’t spew a lie to save her life.

Margaery worried about how she’ll get home and she had to reassure her that she can phone a cab although a cab ride isn’t necessarily in her budget. But even she can splurge after the night she’d had.

But seven hells be damned, she stood there as she waited for the dispatcher to pick up her line. Damn rich people and their chauffeured cars.

‘Need a ride home, wench?’ She heard Jaime speak just behind her, probably hearing the extensive automated spiel of the cab company. It was hurting her ears with its crackly low quality sound but it was either that or have to face Jaime Lannister.

She didn’t know why he was even standing near her.

She took a glimpse of him and he was just standing there with a brow raised and looking at her. He motioned for steering the wheel and pointed at her then to himself with his thumb. She frowned. Brienne ignored him and took to stepping away from the seemingly deranged man and waited patiently for the dispatcher.

‘I’ll drive you home.’ She heard him speak again. ‘It’s Saturday, it will take forever to get a cab to pick you up here.’ She tried her best to ignore him, to pretend she didn’t hear a word he said.

But the man is not for patience or for manners or good sense.

He grabbed her phone off her hands and ended the call.

‘W-what did you just do? I would have been the next one!’ She spluttered.

‘I said I’ll drive you home.’ The man said distractedly as he looked at her phone. He fiddled with it for a little bit. ‘What’s the pin?’ He asked.

‘What’s the what?’

‘The pin, wench. The pin.’ He pointed at her phone. ‘Your phone, give me the pin.’

‘Why would I give you the pin? Give me that back.’ She made to grab her phone back from his grasp but Jaime Lannister just took to turning around and dodging her hands.

‘The picture on the screen, I want to see it again.’ He said, fiddling with her phone. It seemed he was trying to typed in pin as if he would by the darnest luck chance upon the correct one.

‘Why do you want to see my chair?' She huffed in frustration when the man was able to once more dodge her rather adeptly.

‘Your chair?’ He asked cocking his head to look at her peculiarly.

‘Yes, my chair. I designed. I made it, I own it.’ Between gritted teeth she made another attempt to take what was hers. But the man seemed to take what is hers whether she wanted to give it or not.

‘You designed it.’ Jaime Lannister stopped moving, talking to himself. ‘The sketches.’

He looked bewildered and Brienne watched him in confusion as thoughts flittered on his face.

‘Where is it?’ He spoke once again. ‘In your studio?’

‘I don’t have a studio.’ She huffed.

‘Where is it?’ He repeated.

‘At home, it’s the only place where it will remain intact.’ She recalled the few incidents where her works were vandalized and everyone knew who had done it but no solid proof can pinpoint them. In turn, she decided to evacuate her works into her small apartment.

It made her living conditions worst with the cramped space but it was that or lose them altogether.

‘What do you mean?’ Jaime Lannister’s interest unnerved her.

‘What does it have to do with you?’ She said stubbornly. ‘Give me back my phone, I want to go home.’

‘Come.’ He said and started walking away from her.

Brienne clenched her fist to stop the urge to grab and hurl something at the infuriating man.

‘Come? To where?’ She hissed.

‘To see your chair.’

 

Brienne found herself standing over a Valaryan car. It was shiny.

She knows of many people who worship the line but for her it was nothing more than a means to transport the fewest people possible from point A to point B, just a tad shinier. But it seemed to be something that just comes with the territory for a Lannister. He did the precautionary swipe on the hood and chose to pick it up from the special parking area rather than have a valet bring it to him.

‘Get in.’ He commanded as he unlock the car.

‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’ She stated despite standing beside his car. ‘Again, just hand me my phone back before I report you to the police for theft.’ Which she knew was highly unlikely anyone would take seriously. A Lannister stealing her outdated phone of all things.

‘Afraid for your virtue, wench? Have no fear, I have no interest.’ He said with a deprecating smirk.

Warmth tried to flood her face at the poorly veiled insult.

‘You’re intoxicated, Mr. Lannister. I fear not for my virtue but for my life. So, no I’m not going anywhere with you behind the wheel.’

‘I’m hardly drunk, woman. You insult my alcohol tolerance.’ He rebuffed but took her by surprise when he threw a set of keys at her. ‘But if it will make you shut up and follow my orders for once, be my guest and chauffeur me.’ He walked towards her side of the car and raised his brows at her when she remained rooted.

‘You’re letting me drive your Valaryan?’ She asked surprised.

‘You do have a driver’s license, don’t you?’ He said pausing his way inside the car.

‘Of course!’

‘We’re all set then, yes?’ Jaime Lannister closed the door on his side and she was undeniably expected to follow as well. With a roll of her eyes she conceded. She just wants to get home after all. And the man is incorrigible.

She drove quietly as Jaime Lannister made it a point to talk for the two of them. She blocked out much of what he was saying and navigated Street of Steel with ease.

‘You drive quite…well, I suppose.’ He said after she had hoped he ran out of things to say, but alas she was wrong.

‘I drive as normal.’ She shrugged his praise.

‘But you can put a little more speed you know. This beast is made to roar.’ Jaime Lannister said with gleaming eyes directed at her, urging for her to comply. ‘It’s amazing when she does.’

‘She?’ She inquired mockingly.

‘She, Honor. It’s her name. My favorite in the fleet, you know. ‘ He ran an appreciative hand on the luxurious dash.

‘Why is a car a female though?’

‘Because she loves it when you ride her.’ He said as a matter of factly and Brienne regretted even asking as Jaime Lannister winked at her suggestively.

Before long they had passed The Guildhall of the Alchemist. She found an empty parking space just before the King’s Square and killed the engine there.

‘Why are we stopping here? Is it here where you live?’

‘No, but this is where I stop. You probably live somewhere fancy in the Highhill.’

‘But I’m going to see the chair!’ She looked at him unaware that he was serious about going to her place to see a chair.

‘You were serious?’

‘Yes! I want to see it for myself and see if it’s stunning as stunning as it looked in the picture. Give me your pin, woman!’

‘1234.’

‘Seven hells!’ Jaime Lannister exclaimed. ‘How cunning, wench!’ He mockingly laughed at himself.

‘It’s cliché, it works.’ She shrugged.

In her periphery, she could see him engrossed into analyzing the rococo chair she designed for her 3rd year student exposition. It was the most detailed work she had ever made into being. It was one out of a 6 set she had designed but could only afford to buy the materials for one piece.

‘It’s beautiful.’ Lannister whispered to himself.

She was rendered speechless by the heartfelt compliment.

She continued to drive quietly and so did Jaime Lannister who carried on with scrutinizing the rococo piece when he found more photos in her image gallery.

‘Your phone is a piece of shit.’ She glared and he just laughed. ‘It’s true.’

‘It works,’ was all she said.

Before long they were at the entrance of Flea bottom where her apartment was, on the second floor of a utilitarian 4 storey building. Most of the residents were students like her who attends Rhaenys’ Academy of Arts, the poorer lot.

As soon as she parked the car along the empty street, her passenger jumped out and hurried her to follow quickly.

She was surprised he didn’t make a comment about the apartment complex but instead was eagerly waiting for her to point to the direction of her unit.

They made quick steps to the second floor, her leading the way and Lannister closely behind her.

There was a bit of a stale smell from the first unit next to the staircase, Bronn probably had once again conveniently forgot to clean up after himself.

Jaime was pushing his way from behind her as soon as she unlocked the door.

‘Yes, please come in.’ She muttered when Jaime strode inside like he owned the place.

‘Where is it?’ He demanded as he was greeted by furniture pieces on top of each other. She had sample banister designs and oak table tops, some halfway done with carvings others elaborately shaped into completion.

‘In my bedroom. Wait and I’ll bring--,’ he picked the first door he saw and opened it without preamble. ‘Mr. Lannister! You can’t just barge into anywhere--.’ Once more she found herself unable to speak when she walked it on the man caressing the ornately carved arm of the chair.

He ran his hand ever so slowly on the fabric that took her two months to design and paint. The frolicking movement of the peonies were her particular favourite. She remembered putting so much effort on it that most of the time was spent on each petal to bring them to life petal by petal as befit for a rococo texture.

‘It’s hand painted.’ He remarked.

‘I painted it.’ She said with no small amount of pride, fed by his clear veneration.

He glanced at her and there was obvious respect in his green eyes she almost preened.

She cleared her throat as he rose, his gaze never far from the furniture who if alive would have possibly melted by the adoring gaze it received from Jaime Lannister.

‘Jaime Lannister,’ the golden man reached out his hand.

Brienne couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips at the ridiculous turn of events.

‘I know, Mr. Lannister. The whole Westeros knows.’ She chuckled some more.

‘Call me Jaime. And just take the damn hand.’ He said with a smirk.

And she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept writing and writing and before I knew it, it's longer than planned. Sighs.
> 
> This story is much of a revelation to me as to everyone who chance upon reading this. It might be disconcerting to know that I don't have a particular end goal. All I do is look at the characters, drop them on a particular situation and see where their personalities take them. It is much a ride for me as it is for everyone else and sometimes it surprises me still when certain things happen or when a window of opportunity to extrapolate comes up.
> 
> I particularly like how I closed this chapter. I was thinking of how Brienne will drop the formality with Jaime with no safe shore in sight but then by just letting it go, it just happened. And I'm quite satisfied with how it turned out.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this update as much as I did writing it.


	6. Chapter 6

Brienne chose to lean on the meager counter-top of her kitchen as they quietly sipped their coffee.

Despite his denial of being drunk he was still thankful for the silent gesture that the wench did. She had methodically made coffee and pressed the steaming mug on his hand.

The hot drink slowly tried to clear his head and he opted to slip down on the only clear space of her floor willing away the dizziness.

'What, no questions?’ He said as the silence unnerved him. He had never gotten used to the quietness so much like his father’s. ‘Surely, you’re eager to know the gritty details of things.’ Surely she is, everyone had always been out to get them. Someone was always sniffing him out, everything they do was easy fodder for the media and everyone wants their two pennies in to get a dragon back.

But Brienne just gave her a look as she finished her own drink. Her drink smelled sweet, he doubted it was coffee.

‘Finish your drink and go home, Mr. Lannister.’

‘Call me, Jaime.’ He reiterated, the big wench truly likes making him repeat himself.

‘Finish your drink and go home, _Jaime_. I’m tired and I have a long day still tomorrow.’ She said stressing his name as she washed her cup and motioned for him to give his as well.

‘You’re not very hospitable you know. I still haven’t finished mine.’

‘You’re talking clearly enough. You’re not as drunk as I thought after all. Half a mug is more than enough.’

He sighed and sipped the remaining coffee in it. The strong coffee did clear the fog in his head that settled as soon as he was done analyzing the chair that so caught his fancy.

'I'm going, I'm going. I don't want to be caught up in here when your bed warmer comes around.' He said waving a hand to get her to take the mug he held.

She grabbed the mug none too gently. 'There's no such person.'

'How lonely it must be. And it's getting cold. I wonder why no men clamor for your attention, when you're so charming too?' He teased, a smirk played out on his lips just watching her bristle at his jape.

Calling her plain might be an insult to other plain girls and she's as big as the oaf Robert Baratheon, but no matter how unpleasant she looks Jaime would have to admit if only to himself that her bristling was an entertainment on itself. The quick warming of her face was so obvious that it was almost inspiring, the changing of her pale white skin to a Lanister red.

'No one here laughs at your insults to me. Save it when there are others to join you in your ridicule.' She remained stoic in features despite turning crimson.

'You're no fun at all, Brienne.'

'I wasn't told I was to provide your entertainment. Give me heads up next time and I'll learn to juggle.' The way she said it with a straight face made him chuckle.

'Just kidding, just kidding. You’re interesting enough with or without the juggling act.' He said with a wave of a hand.

Brienne just watched him as he tried to pull himself up. But the moment he was about to slip he felt her hand wrap around his upper arm. It was a strong grip. Her hand secured him back to his feet.

‘Are you a body builder by any chance?’ He quipped to salvage his own self-esteem and he felt her hand grip him tightly for a second before letting go.

‘No, I just keep the muscles ready to punch drunken mouthy people.’ She murmured under her breath clearly intending to be heard.

‘Hmm, that so hey?’ Stalling for time as his legs tried to keep the strength in them, he brushed imaginary dust on his suit that was once perfectly unwrinkled but now possibly forever ruined. Not that it matters. A ruined suit seemed to be the least miserable thing to happen in his world.

He laughed at himself. All of a sudden, unbidden it came crashing at him. Cersei had chosen another man over him, or rather chosen her dream, her ambition over him and what he thought they had together.

He knew it. He knew that it was hard for them to ever be really together. What they can have will just be stolen moments, like thieves in the night, keeping quiet and hiding from everyone’s eyes. How much and how often had he longed to hold her hand, kiss her lips, embrace her whenever the urge overcomes him? But no, he always had to fight it. Cersei and him can only be together in the cover of the dark. And even then it was always hurried, short and never quite enough for him. Now it seemed even the stolen moments are out of his reach.

He asked her, he pleaded with her to come take his hand. He’ll take her away, far from all the prying eyes. He told her they can make a home for themselves where their father can’t find them, where they can be just a man and a woman free to love each other. But Cersei shook his hold on her hand. She had laughed and had called him a fool.

 _‘There’s nowhere father can’t find us, Jaime.’_ She said with bitter scorn.

It might be hard to find such a place but he knows it’s not impossible. She just had to say the word and he’ll make it possible. But she didn't want that. Whatever she wanted it was clear that she would get it even without him.

His laugh sounded foreign to his own ears and then he realized he wasn’t laughing anymore. The pained sob he heard was from no one else but him. He fought it off, unwilling to break down in front of this stranger, the stranger whose name is the only thing he knew of. The stranger who had witnessed one too many vulnerable moments of his. He looked at Brienne.

Brienne stood like a deer caught in the headlights. She looked stricken and once more stunned. Her eyes so blue and so bright were wide open and her wide fleshy mouth agape in bewildered silence.

And the sobbing stopped, the laughter started again.

‘Close your mouth, wench. You look ridiculous if not ugly.’ He laughed and wiped the tear leaking at the corner of his eye.

The large woman closed her mouth immediately into a firm line, never quite thin enough despite pressing it close so tight the color ran out of them. She stood straighter and seemed bigger than she already was.

‘Go home, Jaime.’ She commanded in a voice that couldn’t be rebuked.

And he could only nod when the laugh had subsided.

He opened the door to leave her tiny apartment. But he stopped before he stepped outside.

‘I will not speak a word of it. None. Your business is not my concern. You have my word.’ Brienne said before he could say anything again. Whatever he was planning to say had caught in his throat. He nodded in silent assent.

He watched as she closed her door as soon as he stepped out into the corridor.

‘Goodnight, wench.’ He said to the closed door and made his way to his car.

 

The scattered papers of sketches were still there where he had left them. The whirlwind of things the past couple of weeks had not touched his home. His house was mockingly empty just like how he was inside.

She hadn’t contacted him and he hadn’t fallen to the urge to call her. Some nights he can even delude himself that he doesn't want to hear her voice, to see her face, to touch her skin. Some days the cold shower kills the need, some late nights it doesn’t.

And he succumbs into thinking of her, her mouth, her body. Writhing underneath him, sighing and moaning when he touches her. He knew her body so well, he knows were to touch to make her body sing, to make her wet and fervent for him, for his touches, for his cock. Some nights he can imagine her so vividly he could almost taste her skin but his hands were never quite the same as her cunt, and he would always cum furiously and still feel bereft, unsated, unfulfilled.

Her image is getting harder to conjure as bitterness and anger consumes him. And there was nothing to stoke the memories but his mind.

Cersei had always refused to come over to his place, he was always supposed to come to her, meet her elsewhere.

Maybe that was all for the better, maybe it’s better that none of her was in his home, nothing to be constantly reminding him of what’s not there anymore for nothing was ever there.

But he was fooling himself, Cersei was under his skin. Didn't they say that they were one? One soul, two bodies for the pleasure it brings? Was it romanticism or carnality? What did they really have if she had so easily discarded it for some glittering obsession?

It was with those thoughts that he let himself be taken in by sleep. Emotionally and physically tired, slumber lured him in. Green eyes haunting him.

He clambered for another drink, the number of bottles he had lost count already. He kicked the littering charcoal-ed papers, stubbing his toe in the process. He was cursing everything that was holy when a knock cut his call for bloody murder for anything solid in the world.

‘Jaime! Fucking open the door, big bro!’ His brother’s ever polite words shouted from the front door. ‘You know I will bulldoze this door if you don’t open it!’ The little shit threatened.

He opened the door none too gently.

‘Well, hello there little bro.’ He greeted with a slur.

‘I’d like to revel on this moment. I never thought this day would come when I can say you’re looking fucking horrible, big bro.’ His brother said as he pushed his way to cross his threshold. For some reason he remembered Brienne.

‘Please, make yourself comfortable.’ He quipped sarcastically.

He found his brother frowning his big forehead at his living room, scanning the mess which was his home.

‘I knew you’d be a disaster with all things considered.’ Tyrion said resignedly. He shook his head as if disappointed and yet understanding. And he almost resented Tyrion for it.

‘Fuck you.’ He ignored his younger brother as he made his way to his original destination before Tyrion barged in. He grabbed another unknown bottle from his counter, poured himself a drink and poured another one for his brother.

‘At least you still know how to be a proper host,’ Tyrion commented as he took the poured drink for him. 'Although, the scruff is a little over the top.' Tyrion motioned at the beard he had not taken notice and had let grown. Cersei hated it, Cersei would have hated it if she would only care to see him. But she didn't.

‘Someone have to keep the tradition. It seemed to be out of fashion these days.’ He said dryly as he gulped down the amber liquid and poured himself another one enjoying the bitter taste that matched how he felt.

‘How long are you going to keep this up, Jaime?’ His brother’s voice was serious, a quick turn about and he knew concern was there but he couldn't help but lash out at the half-pitying voice.

‘As long as I fucking want! I'll use all Lannister gold to buy all the alcohol in the world and no one can stop me.’

‘Jaime--.’

‘Did father send you here? If he did, tell him to go burn in hell. All seven of them. And he can take his money with him for all I care.’

He heard Tyrion more than see him approach where he had walked towards the window. He felt the punch of his smaller fist. His younger brother's frustration and concern were clear on his face.

‘When will you fucking grow up, Jaime? You knew that you and Cersei were never going anywhere. This would have happened whether you want it or not, if not now, it will eventually. Sooner than you would hope.’

‘I know!’ He shouted. ‘I know!’ But it was clear he didn't.

Tyrion didn’t say anything further but even without saying they both knew what was eating him inside. The fact that Cersei didn’t even fight for it even if it had failed. It seemed in the end she had always meant to do this. He felt used. And wondered if he was ever loved. Tyrion knew without being told that Cersei had refused to see him, avoided him, and outright ignored him.

‘She loves you.’ He stared at his brother. ‘She does, she did. In her own way, Jaime. That I believe.’

‘Not that it mattered in the end.’ The admittance was just as painful when he first told of it to himself. It felt like it will always be painful.

‘Not that it mattered to her, you’re right. So why do you continue to let her control you like this?’ Concern, spite, and other things were in his brother’s voice.

‘What else is there for me to do, Tyrion? It had always been her. Always just her.’

‘Do something that you love, something you love more than her.’ Tyrion held out a wrinkled paper out to him.


	7. Chapter 7

‘For how long are you going to ignore me, wench?’ He asked as he went around the maze of her organize chaos. He was once again looking over every piece of work she had accumulated in the small storage room she was able to make as her own. It was dark and not ventilated well but her choices were minute to nil.

‘Until you make yourself disappear.’ She drowned his reply with the sound of her electric saw. The man had not explained himself as to why he was there when he first appeared half an hour ago. She had asked once and he just grinned at her when he entered the small space before he began walking around.

She did point out that it was her space but he retorted that the wing where they were in is named after their family hence it gave him the right to be anywhere he deemed going.

Brienne thought that she was rid of the Lannisters. As long as she keeps her promise of silence and avoid them, not that they move in the same circles so it won’t be too hard, she wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore. But apparently she was wrong. She denied the foreboding idea of affinity forming in her head. She was pretty sure that despite the jovial appearance and her last encounter of Jaime Lannister at her home that the golden twins had forgotten what she had witnessed. Most especially Cersei Lannister.

It seemed that Jaime got tired of being ignored. She soon found him standing before her as he unplugged her machine.

‘You do know it’s not smart to ignore your patrons, don’t you?’ He gave her a disapproving look.

‘Last time I checked, you weren’t my patron.’ She said making to grab the plug again from his hand.

‘Well, I suppose you don’t check the list often enough.’ His smirk was patronizing as he plug the machine again and stepped away.

She clamored to turn it off before she removed the safety goggles from her eyes. Jaime was back to surveying the carved banisters laid out over her ragged table.

‘What do you mean?’ She asked and it was her turn to be ignored. Jaime, the oaf, walked and looked and pried like he had all the time in the world. She supposed it was her own making. But after not hearing his answer she just decided to let it go. He would tell her if he wanted to and he won’t if he doesn’t want to.

Brienne had learned long ago to not push things that were out of her hands to decide for. She had learned how to let go of things that refused to be within her control.

‘What? You’re giving up that easily?’ Jaime asked half annoyed and half amused when she turned around and made to grab her goggles again.

‘I’m never to forcing people.’ She retorted.

‘All that muscle and never used for coercion, huh?’ She refused to even justify his barb with a retort. 

She heard him sigh before walking towards her again.

‘You make me repeat myself so often and you don’t give me the same courtesy.’ He said exasperation clear on his face.

‘I never did ask for it.’ She said with a shrug.

‘Brienne, Brienne. If you’re going to be working for me, you have to at least treat me nicely. Or at least kiss the ground I walk on.’ He teased.

‘I’m not working _for you_.’ Brienne reiterated again unfazed. She definitely wasn’t in his employ. In fact she wasn’t in anyone’s employ.

She knew she needed to be sending her completed portfolio to design houses in the capital. But she hadn’t much to Margaery’s chagrin. After the encounter with Red Ronnet two years ago she has doubts she would be taken seriously in King's Landing maybe even the whole east of Westeros or farther. Just thinking of that mortifying night makes her skin crawl and cold.

It was only because of the encouraging and prodding of Dean Stark that she managed to push through the last semester to graduate. It didn't help too that her father had hinted of wanting to have her back in Tarth. Evenstar Furniture might be more conservative and practical than what she leans into doing but her father still need all the help he could get.

Selwyn Tarth might never say it outright especially when his only daughter had pleaded in the first place to be allowed to go to the mainland to study. Aside from the cost of sending her into the city, her father had always been a tad protective of her after losing his wife and son to an accident twelve years ago. After that it had only just been him and her, and the nosy Mrs. Roelle. She misses her father too and she very well knows that her father shares the sentiment.

But despite all the sound reason why she should be making her way back to Evenfall Hall and her lack of prospect for a job she still couldn’t decide to leave the city behind. For three years, she had built a life for herself here and no matter how shabby her little apartment is, it was still hers.

‘Well you will if you’re even a quarter as smart as you are big, wench.’ He said with an incline of his head.

‘Just tell me what you mean. I have much work to do, Mr. Lannis---.’

‘Jaime.’ He pressed.

‘ _Jaime_. I have things to do, important things.’ She stressed saying his name with a glare to his direction.

Jaime whipped out from his back pocket a folded piece of paper.

‘I bet it’s not as important as signing up a contract with the Lannisters.’ He said with a wide grin.

Her jaw dropped. And Jaime seemed to take it as compliment as he grinned ready to thump his chest in boast.

‘You’re not serious,’ she whispered as she took the paper with shaking hands.

‘Read it and see for yourself.’

She quickly scanned the document. And true enough it was an offer for a position as an apprentice designer for Lannister corps’ auxiliary company. There was nothing that the corporation hadn’t touched. It was often said that more than half the gold running the country was of Lannister’s making, mined, refined, and minted.

‘B-but I didn’t apply.’ She said dumbfounded as she looked up at Jaime Lannister who was still grinning down at her.

‘Do you know what my job is in the company?’ He asked at her with a raised brow.

She could only shake her head. She has no idea at all as she had never been interested. But truth be told she wouldn’t have been surprise if Jaime Lannister’s sole job was to wear suits and grin the whole day. There’s got to be some business profit coming out from that.

Even in casual clothes such as jeans and a simple pullover shirt that he was wearing, Jaime still looked as golden as he was when she first encountered him. But now that she looked however she did see a bit of a change in him, his beard had grown out and his face looked thinner than what she remembered from a few weeks ago. If she would care to analyze further she might even say he looked haggard.

Jaime laughed deprecatingly for her and Brienne could guess that a bit was for himself.

‘I’ll have you know that I work as Creative Director. Very vague I know, the title doesn’t matter half as much. What matters is what I do.’ He took a seat or more like leaned on to a relatively empty but hardly clean ledge on the wall.

‘And what is it that you do?’ Might she try to deny it, she was half hooked already with just the prospect of a job offer. It is after all a job offer from Lannister group. She couldn’t even begin to aspire to work for anyone more than her father’s own shop just a few minutes ago much less to such a big and well known company.

‘I discover talents. That’s what I do, Brienne Tarth.’ He smirked. ‘You’ve just got a one way ticket to success.’

She was at a loss for words. It was an opportunity too grand for her to imagine but it was there and Jaime looked serious or as serious he could possibly be with his proverbial smirk. The paper on her hand had the official seal and she reread it again. It was crumpled from being in his back pocket but it was real and solid in her hands.

‘I’m supposed to go back to Tarth.’ She murmured more to herself than to the man who was grinning, completely self-satisfied. But she knew that the option of going back to her home island had been an option she was hesitant to make, and every second the idea was getting blurrier, a mere vignette to the clear vision of her designing and creating that could possibly reach people she never imagined to reach out for.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, wench. You’ve just been handed the best offer you could ever hope for. With this offer, my own recommendation to boot, even Ronnet can’t do a thing.’ The mention of Ronnet Connington threw cold water to her quickly heating up aspirations.

‘You knew.’ She murmured.

‘I didn’t initially. Ronnet is not someone I concern myself with, the rat. But I do my research.’ He said with a shrug.

Jaime knew and yet still there was an offer in her hand. Ronnet Connington made sure to sully her reputation every chance he got not to add the public humiliation he did at her very first exhibit. The man had widely ridiculed her work and snubbed every piece she put forward. All for the fact that she did not so readily agreed for him to represent him.

When Ronnet first appeared she was so new to the city and had only made very few pieces to show up for. She was so unsure and insecure barely an adult. Still but he took notice of her and her work. He was extremely nice and gallant, at a point she almost thought he was trying to woo her. But when he proposed that she sign up a contract with him where her work will be branded under Griffin’s Roost she was unable to agree right away. It wasn’t of any belief for something amiss but how thankful was she for her meekness that caused her to pause. Ronnet Connington proved to be an impatient man and cruel too. From that point on, he tried to subtlety thwart opportunities for her and insulted her personally whenever they cross paths.

‘A small fry like Connington can’t mess with the big guns, you know. But I must commend him for taking notice of your work not that he would have done you any good. The rat is an ass. A stupid red donkey.’ Jaime spat with an obvious dislike for the said man. Brienne refused to think that his anger was in her behalf.

She couldn’t help but giggle as she imagined Ronnet’s very red hair and donkey face. He once ridiculed her for looking uglier than a horse.

‘I take that as acquiescence then. You will sign the contract and Lannister corp will be your official broker and dealer.’ Jaime Lannister smiled at her and something in her chest loosened. A sense of relief flooded her and moistness filled the back of her eyelids.

‘Don’t cry, wench. You’d only look uglier.’ He commented but still with the beaming smile, his golden mane looking like a halo at that very moment.


	8. Chapter 8

Jaime found himself waking up early that day. Before he could pause to think what he was doing he was already half way to Brienne’s studio.

The past few days ever since he insisted the wench to move out of the dingy storage room she’d been working in, he had been finding himself loitering on her work space more and more.

Brienne insisted in staying in Flea Bottom which he couldn’t quite understand why. Flea Bottom with its long history of being a grass roots district has very few offerings for an artisan if only for cheap accommodation and distracting noise. But the wench refused to move out of her tiny apartment and said she’d rather not commute.

The studio was really a worn down warehouse. It looked like it was ready to be torn down if not the wench’s offer to rent it out from the land owner.

Upon arriving at the Street of Flour once known for a number of pot shops which is now lined by low-cost housing he found the streets to be empty still in the early morning. But he knew there will be someone out and true enough he spotted the large form of Brienne out for her morning walk. He slowly drover to her side and opened the side window of his car.

‘Good morning, wench!’ He greeted cheerfully.

‘Morning,’ she grumbled and continued on running. She was already on her cool down as they approach her studio.

Brienne didn’t ask why he was there. As a matter of fact she had stopped asking on the third day. He had to praise her restraint or lack of curiosity which he find quite interesting on an artist. Brienne is a paradox on her own.

She unlocked the door adeptly. He was still quite amused by the fact that she insists to lock the door with a heavy chain that many would find cumbersome to even lift. She said that it deters would be thieves or those who just wants to mess around. It sounded like she had more experience about more than others so he just dropped the argument but never fails to point out her freakish strength whenever she so easily moves it around.

She grabbed a bottle of water and mopped the sweat on her face with a waiting towel.  
He had noticed already how painfully fastidious the wench could be. In her work space everything might appear like a disorganized mess but she always finds things whenever she needed it with precision. 

She soon disappeared to the sorry excuse of a bathroom that was ill fitted with a shower. It was hard to imagine her fitting under the shower, her shoulder hunched to get the water to sluice over her body, harder still would be to get her straw colored hair under it to wet and wash away the sweat she worked out with her daily early morning run.

He sat in one of the sofa she was tufting facing the direction where she had disappeared. He looked at the closed door and pictured her behind it. He couldn’t help wondering how much of her skin was covered by the same freckles that litter her face. He had noticed that her freckles had been getting darker more so on the bridge of her nose and at the apples of her cheeks.

He was startled when the closed door opened and Brienne stopped upon catching him looking directly at her.

‘Is there any problem?’ She asked as she brusquely dried her hair.

Jaime shook his head as an answer momentarily stunned upon realizing just what he was thinking about. But the mental image was clear on his head, he had gone as far as thinking her freckles dusting her shoulders and running after the other on her back.

Brienne started to brew coffee. It was then that he realized that the once barren space was slowly turning more comfortable each passing day. The wench had seemed to be moving more of her appliance and other necessities from her apartment to her working studio.

She might not fancy talking to him but she still made a cup of coffee for him which she left on the table before she sipped her own and headed to a stack of magazine and books. She simply flipped through the pages just like the past few mornings he had witnessed of her.

He sipped his own coffee and found himself watching the wench again.

‘You’ve been staring.’ Brienne said breaking the silence.

‘I’m bored.’ He quipped finishing his coffee.

Brienne closed the magazine she was reading. He didn’t quite catch the title of it but he noticed her flipping through it the other day as well. He didn’t even realize he remembered it.

‘If you’re bored why don’t you go somewhere else to do something more productive?’

He just shrugged for an answer which Brienne acknowledged with a roll of her eyes.

Truth be told he didn’t exactly know why he was there. The first time he went to visit her after just the second day she had moved in to the warehouse as a whim to bug her, he soon found it quite relaxing, the rhythmic sound of her moving and the noise of her machinery and tools were enough noise to drown his own thoughts. She also was not nosy or chatty at all which he found quite a nice change over the babble of people who he used to regularly associate with.

He knew that she wasn’t exactly thrilled to have him looking over her shoulder but in her own way she did concede to the fact that it was him that made all these possible for her. But he knew as well that had he not discovered her, with the promising style and skill Brienne would have been easily found out by someone else. Not that he’ll ever tell her that lest she use it against him to throw him out.

The lack of television and radio, even phone signal was a reprieve and an escape that he needed to impose of himself. He is a coward wanting quiet but finally admitted his fear of being alone.

Tyrion had advised him to do something he loves more than Cersei. Him and Tyrion might have stopped spending time together as they used to do but his brother still knew him well, might even have known him better than Cersei, he admits.

He remembered staring at the wrinkled sketch that he made, it was the drawing he did at the first bout of inspiration that niggled at him until he was able to ooze it out of his hands via charcoal. When he first encountered Brienne.

Brienne had begun carving, the sound of her mallet hitting the machete filled the stillness. He walked towards her in a respectful distance knowing that she gets annoyed when he gets too close. He had received a glare so fierce once before he had to bolster himself with extra dose of cockiness.

It was an ornate door out of cherry wood. He was startled how much progress she had made in just a matter of days.

‘Wench, how long have you been working on that?’ He exclaimed.

Brienne gave him a pointed stare.

‘Three days,’ she answered.

‘Three days? It looks like you’ve worked on it for a full week!’ The door wasn’t close to finish but the bigger parts of it had fully bloomed to show off the main character of the elaborate design.

‘Well, I couldn’t sleep.’ She murmured stopping her hammering for a second before resuming again.

‘Couldn’t sleep? Have you been staying here for the past few days?’ Brienne didn’t answer but he was sure she could hear him. She was prodding a particular etch of a curlicue with a bowed head seemingly embarrassed.

He didn’t understand why she was turning red and then it dawned on him.

‘Couldn’t sleep.’ He mused and paused. ‘Wench don’t tell me you were too excited like a boy before his first fuck!’ He exclaimed tauntingly. 

‘Oh, shut it Lannister.’ She retorted but with less ire than usual and more reddening of the face. ‘So what if I am excited. You should be happy about that. Your lowly peon is being productive.’

‘But you’re acting like a kid,’ he laughed at her like it was the height of humor. But despite his japing he found it ridiculously fitting for her to act as such. She was big and tall, bigger and taller than most if not all of the people he knows off. Her size could give an impression of a full adult but upon deeper inspection Brienne is still young.

The stubborn tilt of her head and the stalwart retorts she fitfully springs at him somehow always felt refreshing however annoying.

Even if he’d only known Brienne for a short amount of time the little things he had found out about her revealed to be the paradox. She was stubborn with the insistence of maturity and independence but at the same time those very same characteristics are what made her more childlike and innocent.

The wench deemed it appropriate to ignore him once again. He is probably a fool for letting the likes of her ignore him. But then again to not be fawned or be gossiped about was something he’s really starting to like.

With a smirk and shake of his head that Brienne didn’t bother to see, he chose to sit on the chair she had abandoned and picked up the magazine that she was reading.

As he flipped through the pages and soothed by the sounds of her working he started feeling the familiar itch on his hand. He stopped and stared at it. He let the delightful pain of fervently needing to draw, to make, to create.

He stood up and rummaged the wench’s desk. The sound of hammering stopped and knew Brienne was watching him.

‘Lend me a pen and paper, wench.’

‘Help yourself.’ She pointed to the stack of recycled paper on a box and he grabbed almost half a ream sure that the amount won’t be missed. He returned to the chair he was sitting on and pulled a work bench piled with more of her magazines that he was sure weren’t there a couple of days ago.

It was uncomfortable but he didn’t notice it much especially once his fingers started moving. He would have laugh if he had the luxury of stopping the ideas spilling out from his brain. Sheets after sheet of paper started piling on the floor as he continuously draw. The exhilaration of finding inspiration that for some years now had run dry was almost enough to make him breathless but he couldn’t afford to cut concentration.

He can’t remember now when he stopped drawing, his home studio had been nothing but a room where a lot of pretending happened. He hadn’t created anything tangible for so long now he couldn’t even remember the last time he did ever produce any.

But he had not time to think of when it stopped for at that very moment it began again. What was it that made it rev? He’ll just think of it some other time maybe.

He was engrossed with sketching that he had lost track of time. He drew to the sound of Brienne’s tools, he sketched alongside her hammering, her pauses and her silence. He was only awoken from the trance when Brienne slipped a plate on top of the books and magazines beside him.

She started when he looked up upon catching her move in his periphery.

‘Food.’ It was a sandwich, hardly what he'd call decent food. ‘It’s already 9.’ He heard his stomach grumble.

‘Nine? Morning?’ He asked gingerly.

She shook her head. ‘Night.’

‘Damn.’ He dropped the pen and felt the stiffening of his fingers as soon as it loosened away from the object. ‘Sixteen hours? A record, for sure.’

‘Sure was.’ Brienne commented. When he looked up at her there was something different in her blue eyes. Maybe it was just him imaging things but somehow he saw admiration in them.


	9. Chapter 9

Jaime came back. And she knew it was time for supper.

‘Food, wench.’ He said as he laid out the containers on a cleared table just a few steps from her jigging table.

He was grinning at her when she finally dusted off her hands and approached the heaping surface.

‘I thought you poor soul. To not have tried this beef bourguignon from Cobbler’s Square is beyond me!’ It was a few days ago that they came to the subject of food. Jaime had been spending much of his free and not so free time in her warehouse studio. Margaery in the handful of times she visited had pointed out how odd it was to see Jaime Lannister loitering abouts comfortably in her space whilst the whole King’s Landing and beyond was wondering where he had been making himself scarce.

He took her once initiative to provide meal for him as another mistake on her part at his expense. Jaime righteously pointed out how he was being ill fed in her presence as if it was her duty to keep him nourished when he invades what should be her private time. The sole extent of her cooking skill was to slap two pieces of bread with meat and a passable cheese in between. So she just glares at him every time he complains and yet he refuses to make his own meal.

But a couple of days later he came in the morning carrying a bag of food and a full size refrigerator was delivered a few hours later. She just stared as he stuffed all the food he brought inside the cooling device.

Most of the foods were cooked meals ordered from what she guessed to be the best of the best of King’s Landing’s food scene. A microwave was deftly added to her growing almost kitchen corner. They had both realized that they were simply useless in using a device such as the stove aside from heating water or an occasional pot of soup. Jaime admonished her for the lack of ‘feminine’ cooking skills and she clocked him on the head for being a sexist.

Despite her initial irritation of his continuing presence almost every day she had grown used to it. However she might deny it, they had unwittingly made a routine of their day. Every morning for the last couple of months he would arrive just after her morning run, they would drink the coffee that she had made and get to working on whatever project she felt like doing for the day while he quietly sat on her lone seating chair crouched sketching on the stack of paper she kept.

Most of the time they both miss lunch when they are so engrossed with their works and it will be much later in the afternoon when one of them would get up from their work areas to grab any easily prepared food in the fridge. As soon as the other stand the other would immediately follow. The occasion is usually quiet with no unneeded chatter just a comfortable pause of a few minutes, a quarter of an hour at the most. Although sometimes Jaime would let a smart mouth comment that she would ignore with a roll of her eyes.

But it was during the second week when Jaime lingered longer than usual, previous days prior to that particular night he would leave after dusk. Jaime roused her from sanding and asked if she would like some pizza for dinner. She just shrugged having not much planned her evening meals instead more often than not opting to eat trail mix while she works until the clock strikes past midnight or when her eyes starts to droop.

Ever since then, Jaime had stayed for supper and she was delegated to prepare midday meal. It was during one of such meals that Jaime targeted again her incompetence in the kitchen. He applauded her hammering skills which apparently make a good sound but her hand and arm dexterity as he pointed out doesn’t extend to knife or ladles.

‘Sometimes, wench I think you’re just lazy for anything womanly.’ He commented in between a mouthful of pasta that she warmed up in the microwave in set plates.

‘Just shut up and eat, Jaime.’ She had gotten used to calling him by name if only to be more curt, his last name after all is three syllables too long.

‘I’m serious and I think it’s something that someone needs to point out to you. You seem oblivious to the fact. I almost pity Margaery’s efforts.’ He continued pertaining to one of Margaery’s visit chiding her for her dirty nails. In her defence there’s no use to clean up her nails if they will only get dirty while she varnish or paint or handle her many tools. ‘You could probably look half decent if you just comb your hair and powder your nose.’ He nodded to himself as if convinced that it was the solution that will solve all her problems.

Brienne tried to breathe in and out to calm herself down and not be baited. They both knew, she was sure, that he didn’t believe that but the arsehole just like to annoy her with his pompous comments.

‘And maybe if you dress a little bit better. A better fitting jeans? You have really long legs, legs that goes on forever, it’s quite ridiculous!’ He ranted and she stared at him like he had gone insane. He probably realized it himself as well as he halted from ranting and cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘Uhm, so yeah. Long.’ He finished dumbly.

‘If you have a problem with how I look you don’t have to look at me. You’re free to leave, be my guest as a matter of fact. My face won’t change with a few or a million runs of a comb just so you know.’ She supplied. ‘And you’re no chef yourself so can you quit giving me grief for cooking? I’ve fed myself well enough with my ‘lazy’ womanly skills as you so put it.’ She dropped her fork losing her appetite and left the table. ‘Clean up.’

She didn’t want his comments to affect her but he just did. She had long accepted her ungifted looks and had long won over losing sleep about it. But for some reason hearing Jaime Lannister, golden boy extraordinaire, give suggestions on how to pretty herself up to be at least ‘half-decent’ just makes her want to clock him several times over. Such comments were so often directed at her that she had built up resistance and learned to not stoke the taunters. Or so she thought.

She went back to her horse table and grabbed any tool her hand could get a hold of and with much more strength than warranted, started chipping on the woodblock in front of her unable to defuse the growing upset in her.

She felt more than heard him approach her. He sat a couple of feet away from where she was working, legs splayed with his hands loosely clamp and hanging in between his corded thighs. Refusing to look at him directly, she continued to obliviously ruining a good piece of wood.

‘I didn’t mean to offend you, wench.’ He said, Brienne paused and glared at the woodblock. ‘Are you upset?’

She didn’t reply but felt a bit calmer. Logically, Jaime is much a stranger still despite the time they have spent together almost every day the past few months but her senses seemed to have believed him when he said he didn’t mean to upset her.

‘Well, don’t ever do it again.’ She consented finally meeting his eyes.

He grinned at her. ‘But you really do need to comb your hair.’

She grabbed a handful of chipped wood and threw it at him.

It was after that day that Jaime decided to regale her of all the best food of the country. She knew it was still his way of apologizing without saying the words. He lamented the fact that she had yet to try so many delicacies he deemed must haves before dying. Thus leading to that particular meal.

‘It looks like bowl o‘ brown to me,’ she grimaced upon looking at the bowl he had opened at the table. The scent of it however made her stomach grumble.

Jaime laughed but ladled a bowlful for her.

‘Just give it a try, wench. It is sure worth it.’ He said pushing the bowl unto her hands encouragingly. She stared at it longer before taking a spoonful into her mouth.

She chewed at the tender meat and savoured the taste of it. It was warming especially on that cold rainy night. Honestly she had never been fed as well as this in a very long time.

Jaime wasn’t lying or exaggerating after all. It was so good, the meat was so tender, and the depth of flavour was something she couldn’t comprehend but could only appreciate. She didn’t realize that she was letting hums of appreciation escape her lips until she heard Jaime coughing as if choking.

He was sitting right across from her with the same bowl in front of him which he deftly lowered on his lap as he stared at her.

‘Something the matter?’ She asked inquiringly while spooning another helping to her mouth. She licked the bit of sauce on her spoon enthusiastically.

He shook his head vehemently and got up after a few seconds looking bewildered and alarmed.

‘Is everything okay, Jamie?’ She asked getting up herself and putting down her bowl and tried to approach him.

‘No, no! Don’t get up! I’m okay,’ he was panicking now that she couldn’t help but feel panicked as well. 'Seven hells!'

‘Jaime!’ She exclaimed trying to catch the bowl that was in his hand but he startled away and effectively dropping the full bowl.

‘I’ll be back!’ He said without meeting her eyes and an uncharacteristic redness in the face as he ran off to the bathroom leaving her confused as seven hells as to what had happened.

Jaime slammed the door of the bathroom loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!


	10. Chapter 10

It’s been three days since he last saw Brienne. It’s been more than 70 hours since he shut himself inside her tiny bathroom like prepubescent kid with unwarranted horniness hungry to bite his ass off.

He might have laughed out his innards if not for the very real hard on he sported just from merely watching the wench eat a stew the color of bowl o’ brown.

And she said it looked disgusting!

He couldn’t help thinking he must be bewitched or probably just experiencing withdrawals. It’s been too long since he’d last had sex. And his imagination of viable jacking off material had regrettably dwindled down to almost nothing. As a matter of fact he had stopped trying to conjure images of Cersei, realizing that only bitterness was inspired by thoughts of her.

Maybe that was it. For the past months, Brienne was the closest female thing that he had been around with and so far from Cersei’s image. Maybe his poor appendage had been hurt so much that anything close to what Cersei is would be something to inspire much needed release. That could only be it.

It’s not true that big boned, muscular, plain faced Brienne could have inspired such a massive hard on, a hard on that refused to be ignored until he let himself let go.

Brienne’s concerned voice from the other side of the door was unwittingly used to lead him to a completion that was not satisfying but at the very least soothing. He had felt embarrassed that he couldn’t meet her blue eyes when he finally deemed himself calm enough to open the door.

Brienne was sitting on her work bench when he finally emerged, distractedly sanding a foot of a bedstead. He groaned at the blasted image which startled her.

Only a hasty goodbye was said before he bolted out the door and into his car. And it had been three days ever since that most confusing moment of his life. It was more confusing than when Cersei suggested he kissed her on the mouth on their 13th nameday.

He’s discomfited to see the wench again but at the same time he wanted to go back and reclaim the safe haven he had made for himself in her workspace. He blames her for ruining everything and of course none of it was his fault. It was her who ate that stew like it was some sort of a seduction act, licking and moaning. Who was she trying to seduce? It wasn’t like anyone would fall for her act?

But who was he kidding? Brienne had followed him out even when he refused to look back when she called for him as he got into his car. She just looked worried and concerned with no idea to half of what he did inside her bathroom. She didn’t know how he had clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt just to stifle the groan ripping out of his lungs. She had no idea how he stared amazed and with self-disgust at the substantial proof of his wayward lust on her shower stall. She was innocent to all of it. Damn her!

He felt thirsty for something potent. It had been more than 2 months since he last had anything alcoholic. In fact it had been as long as he had started working with Brienne. She begins working so early in the morning that he had stopped having night caps so he would wake up just as early, and to be honest he hadn’t felt the need to drink when his mind was so preoccupied with sketching and designing. He laughed at the irony of it, the same reason he had stopped drinking is now the very same one pushing him back to the bottle.

He gripped the bottle by the neck and stared at it with all the frustration directed to Brienne.

He let out a frustrated groan before he released his tight hold on the bottle and closed his eyes tightly with a heavy breath.

He can’t be hiding here. He just can’t. And he refuses to allow Brienne into pushing him back to seclusion. He refuses to give her that much power over him. He’d go back there and act as if nothing had happened, for all he knows it was just a fluke.

He just had to remember to take his baser needs once in a while and not let his lust go without tending. Maybe he might pick up a girl once in a while. He was in no need of a relationship or any complication. Especially now that he had been mulling the idea of actually making his designs more than images on paper. He had been considering asking the wench to collaborate and help him out in bringing them to life. So no, he can’t be mucking around what he have with Brienne.

Decided, he stood up and made for his jacket and his keys. He refuses to acknowledge the excitement at finally mustering nerves to see the wench again amongst many other things he refused to admit at that moment.

With a spring to his step he pulled his door open just to be surprised on who was standing behind it.

‘Cersei.’ Stunned would be an understatement upon looking at his twin standing resplendent in her usual poised stance.

‘Jaime,’ her rouged lips pulled into an alluring smile that was so familiar and yet so foreign to him. ‘Brother.’ She whispered breathily.

‘What are you doing here?’ He uttered impatiently that both surprised the two of them.

The seductive smile on her lips immediately disappeared and the familiar glowering yet still beautiful face immerged.

‘Is that all what you have to say to me? We haven’t seen each other in months, Jaime!’ She hissed as she pushed her way in to his house ignoring the fact that he didn’t invite her in. He didn’t even think she wanted her there.

He closed the door begrudgingly as he followed her.

He didn’t quite picture her visit to be quite like this but somehow it was all appropriate. Cersei didn’t look around, no curiosity to how he live.

‘You haven’t contacted me in months, Jaime.’ She remarked reproachingly as she sat herself on his wingchair looking much like a queen and him her subject.

‘What for?’ He answered testing.

‘What for?’ He watched her gripped the arm of the chair. ‘Am I nothing to you now, Jaime?’

‘You are to me what I am to you, sister. Go figure.’ He said drily and realized how true his statement was.

‘Don’t be absurd, Jaime. You know how important you are to me.’ Cersei chided.

‘Well, that doesn’t seem to be the case. Was I just imagining the fact that you discarded me like a used condom when you started sucking Baratheon’s cock?’ He grated in mocking derision. He couldn’t deny the pleasure upon seeing her at least flinch at his scornful words.

‘I did what I had to do.’ She said defensively. ‘You know it was my only choice!’

‘You mean, it was the only choice you wanted to take.’ He reminded himself of the choice she chose to do, she chose her ambition over him. She made it clear that what he could offer was nothing close than what Robert Baratheon could give her.

‘I—I chose my dream but I didn’t--,’ halting for words was so unlike her it was almost disconcerting. She kept holding his gaze, unbending and unthwarted. ‘I did not abandon you, Jaime. I did not.’ She shook her head fervidly in denial.

‘I seem to remember the events quite differently, sister.’ He said unable to mask the pain of her desertion.

She got up on her feet and approached him frugally, her face melting out the remorse and replaced by tenderness he alone begets from her or so he wants to believe. She raised her hands as if calling forth for him to come closer. He felt compelled but steeled himself.

He saw her stare at him and they both waited for a few beats and it seemed he won the contest of wills when Cersei conceded and bridged the remaining space between them.

‘Jaime, I’ve missed you.’ Cersei whispered as she placed her palm on his chest. Her hands were warm and an awakening sensation crawled in his vein, feint and quickly building, roaring from the small triumph of having her come to him. And she knew it as her fingers reached up his neck, wrapping her slender arms around him. ‘I missed you so much.’ He didn’t win as so much as she chose to forfeit.

He angled his head away as she kissed his neck right where his pulse beat erratically. He could feel her smile on his skin, she reveled in the control that she had, has, over him.

He hated it and yet still he couldn’t push her away.

His hands took a life of their own when they caressed her body, felt her familiar lithe form pressed against his. He felt the stirring in his loin as she gyrated against him. She was melting against his touch as she always did whenever she let him.

He groaned when she felt Cersei’s hand on his crotch making easy work of his fly. It was all so familiar that it was just easy to succumb to the lust between the two of them. Sex with Cersei had always been scaldingly scorching. He pressed himself into her touch and she expertly controlled his cock like she always did. The thought of another man’s cock on her able hand was souring but not enough to wilt his lust.

‘Did you miss this, Jaime?’ She asked tauntingly, beguiling him to look down at her. Her eyes were so dark as she stared at him intently and he knew his as darkened eyes were mirroring the same carnal ache he sees in hers.

He grabbed her head and forcefully devoured her mouth. Cersei’s moans caught in the fierce and painful kiss of untended lust taking over his body. One of her hands gripped his neck, her nails digging into his skin. And they were reduced to lust and fire and want.

In the haze of it all, just before he let the fire consume him he heard the door bell ring.

‘Jaime!’ His body froze. Cersei slipped her tongue in his open mouth as he recognized the familiar voice coming from the outside. ‘Jaime is everything okay?’ There was a loud knock on the door. It was the same concerned voice that dogged him as he fled three days ago.

Jaime wonders if he should be happy or not that the wench still doesn’t know the sounds people make before, during, and after fucking.

Maybe he wants to be the person to teach her of them all.

He smiled.


	11. Chapter 11

She tried to ignore the quietness. She denied the pressing emptiness that gnaws every corner she turns. It came as a surprise that there was a void that was left gaping upon his disappearance. But when she swallowed that truth she thought it easy to overcome.

She believed to have overcome all the reminders that nothing was amiss but it only took one mentioning of his name before the extent of her agonizing came to light.

It was just on the second day that he didn’t show up. She couldn’t summon the appetite to eat or bid upon the muses to continue working. She didn’t realize that she had been absently going from station to station without much purpose when Margaery called her out on it.

It was her friend who pointed at the big pink elephant in the room.

‘Where’s your Lannister?’ Margaery inquired as she leafed through the piled works Jaime had left behind. Brienne had arranged them neatly more than a couple of times the first day he didn’t show up. 

She had seen him drew a lot of them but never did quite had the chance to openly admire them apart from that very first time he sat and worked along with her. Absentmindedly, she traced the contours of his designs. It varied from sculpture ideas, busts and abstracts, to shoes and clothing a probable product of his sister Cersei Lannister. Some were just patterns for fabric or for wallpaper, intricate landscapes, glass and vases design, he designed for so many art forms that it made her mind reel at the extent of his ideas. He was always so engrossed when he worked and she never saw fit to disturb him but to see the products of his almost maniacal outputs she couldn’t help but be astounded more.

There were rough sketches of their warehouse as well, a handful of them included an image of her. It was hard to look at those ones. She was pulled and at the same time repulsed to look at them.

Brienne was sure that from his seat to where she worked on a particular sketch, he should have only seen her back. But the sketch which was touched with more finished lines included her face, the grimace as she chiseled on the hardwood and the sweat pooling on the exposed collarbone and glistening on her hairline as she toiled. He had caught her in the image with her lips apart and the tip of her tongue flicking out in her usual habit. Her shoulders were bunched, wide and framed in the bedraggled shirt she was wearing, in the effort of the movement. She looked so alive, so virile, so able and manly, and at the same time she almost refused to believe the womanliness that seemed to be present as well. She wanted to see mockery but it was only an unmistakeable beauty in it.

She couldn’t quite fathom how he caught all of that, if he had added things that surely shouldn’t be there but going that direction could mean that he drew as how he sees her. And it seems that he saw a woman in her that many including herself hadn’t seen.

She stared and absorbed it with a trickle of something unfamiliar in her gut that she thumped hard to stave. Burying it in the pile wanting to have it gone and yet unable to destroy it, she forced herself to let it go. It wasn’t hers to meddle with forcing herself to believe that she was just an object in it as much as the wooden stool along with her. The tiny cinder that wanted to make a fire of itself was cogently doused.

Pensively, to put off her mind from the disquieting images she had gathered all his pens and charcoal into an empty tin can of peaches and put his sketches in a protective box container on the bench he had called his own. Conceding to the vanity she was feeling for not having him there.

It was aggravating for her to feel as if she was now dependent on his presence to be able to be productive.

She groaned at the growing restlessness and thought better to remove herself from the warehouse. Maybe in doing so the not quite longing will be alleviated. 

When she did her laundry that first night after giving up on waiting for him, she hauled herself back into her apartment with a bagful of clothes. She hadn’t been home for almost a week and she probably wouldn’t have if her routine wasn’t disturbed by Jaime’s disappearance.

She stared at his ruined dress shirt that got caught on a wayward nail a few days ago. He was about to throw it out after stripping it off leaving nothing but a thin undershirt between his lean form and her poor eyes. She stared and he asked if she wanted the shirt instead.

Jaime handed it to her without care. She distractedly quipped how unreasonable rich people were which he just chuckled against at.

To any other average woman the shirt would have swallowed them whole but to her the shirt lays on her shoulder perfectly. She shook off the urge to put it on feeling silly and embarrassed from the mere thought of it.

Try as she might, she couldn’t figure out as to what had triggered Jaime’s odd behavior. He had been fine minutes before he had dropped a good bowl of food and ran as if the Stranger himself was after him.

She could have been conceited thinking that she knew him enough to know the bits of things that would freak him out. But Brienne knew the truth, she barely know that man. All she knows was that whatever this is with him is affecting her work and she can’t have it happening most especially on this vulnerable time of her career.

She steeled herself and pulled a semi-clean shirt and coat from her pile of clothes and determinedly exited her apartment leaving the running dryer and the second load of wash she ought to do.

She’d find Jaime and clear things up. If he wanted to never show up in their warehouse then so be it but he will not just disappear with no explanation. Brienne had let him in without an explanation more than the he’s just there because he wanted to but he just can’t leave as easily.

She quickly dialled Dean Stark’s number as she walked towards the nearest bus stop. After just a couple of rings, Dean Catelyn Stark picked up the phone.

She failed to be as polite as usual and without so much as a preamble asked for the information that she needed.

‘Catelyn, I was wondering if you could give me Jaime Lannister’s contact information.’ Jaime and she had never so much as exchanged phone numbers, she never felt or thought that there was ever going to be a need for it.

The older woman was confused and asked her as to what she needed it for. Brienne couldn’t give her a proper answer and just chose to say she had something she needed to talk about with him.

There was a rustling in the other line before another voice took over.

‘Hello, Brienne.’ The person greeted.

‘Uhm, hello?’ She answered wondering who could it possibly be.

‘This is Tyrion Lannister, the other Lannister offspring of Tywin Lannister.’ The baritone voice was said in a jolly manner. ‘We’ve yet to meet but I’ve heard so much about you, good things as a matter of fact.’

‘Uhm, thank you?’ Why is Tyrion Lannister talking to her, she wondered. It seems to be really true that she had a growing affinity for the Lannisters as they seem to be popping into her life. She shivered at the thought.

‘Not very talkative, someone did mention that to me.’ She heard the man called Tyrion Lannister laugh good naturedly. ‘So, I heard you’re looking for my dear brother.’

‘I am.’ Her confusion was cleared upon being led back to her original intent. ‘Yes, I am trying to locate Jaime.’

‘Well, you are in luck! As I am the foremost authority in locating my wayward brother.’ Tyrion Lannister said immodestly with a jolly good laugh.

‘Thank you, Mr. Lannister.’ She said profusely.

‘Call me Tyrion. I have a feeling we’ll be more than just acquaintances Brienne Tarth. I just feel it.’

Tyrion Lannister gave her Jaime’s full address and phone number. He even offered to pick her up and drive her there but she was grateful enough to have his assistance as it is so she thanked him again before hanging up. She took the KLT underground to Cobbler’s Square close to Gates of the Gods where Jaime’s opulent townhome was.

She still had to walk quite a bit as public transport seems to be an unknown thing for an area with mostly well off people who drives Vhagars and Meraxes like it was the most natural thing. Jaime with his Valaryan just happens to belong if not towering of them all.

She was surprisingly let in by the sentry upon hearing her name. It seemed Tyrion had taken it upon himself to think ahead for her. She was so focus in locating Jaime that she had overlooked the semantics of things.

When she finally stopped in front of the home, she saw a shiny Vhagar parked in the driveway. She scoffed at the lavishness of it, Jaime does not only drive a Valaryan he saw fit to own a Vhagar as well. No wonder he throws away shirts with a tiny hole no one would even notice.

With a shake of her head she approached his front door. But immediately halted before quickening her steps when she heard his unmistakeable groan.

She knocked and called out for his name.

There was a commotion before she heard someone approaching the door. Soon after she saw his face peeking out.

‘Jaime,’ she was breathless as she took stock of him in a quick swoop as he eased out of his doorstep. Brienne sighed in relief as she find Jaime unhurt, his hair was disheveled and his beard untrimmed but he looked fine which was more than enough for her. She didn’t realize how worried she had been until seeing him had washed it away.

‘Brienne,’ a mix of delight and uncertainty was plain on his face. ‘Wench, what are you doing here?’ He asked pulling the door close.

‘I—I was worr--,’ she wasn’t able to complete her words and Jaime was unable to fully shut the door behind him when slender fingers with fiery red nails wrenched the door open.

‘What the hell is she doing here, Jaime?’ Brienne paled under the revolted gaze of the female Lannister, Jaime’s effervescent twin sister.

Jaime, in flash had pushed her behind him and they both faced the seething Cersei Lannister.

One look at Cersei’s reddened lips and Jaime’s disheveled hair, Brienne realized that she really need to distinguish all different kinds of groaning. Why didn’t they teach that in school?


	12. Chapter 12

Every nerve instinct in his body told him to get in between the two women. His common sense for once worked as fast as he needed it to be.

Cersei was undeniably livid as she looked at him and Brienne. He knew from the look in her eyes that she didn’t appreciate his stance of siding with the wench. But truth be told it was all reflex that made him move opposite his twin sister rather than any intent to hurt her.

‘Jaime, what the hell is she doing here?’ Cersei hissed. He couldn’t answer right away as he wasn’t too sure why Brienne was there after all. He was just as surprised.

But Cersei’s mind was quickly connecting her own imagined dots. She had always been impatient for explanation and had always been quick to judge, and judge poorly she does.

‘How could you! How could you, Jaime!’ She was shouting which had him taken aback. Cersei never did let her temper loose in public and at that very moment all three of them were very much exposed to any one passing by. ‘How could you betray me like this!’ She accused with fire enough to scald his skin.

He caught Cersei’s hands as she striked him with frail arms. Her nails met his skin and the sting of it was disregarded at the sudden display of vehemence and hysteria.

‘Cersei,’ he called onto his twin who was hysterically hissing and scratching at him. ‘What is wrong with you?’

‘You! You and that freak! You’re planning to destroy me! You don’t want me to be happy! How could you, Jaime?’ Cersei’s accusation stunned him.

When Cersei started lunging for Brienne who was standing frozen behind him he quickly gripped her arms tightly and pushed her and himself away from Brienne.

‘Let me go!’ Cersei screamed as words full of vitriol spilled from her lips for Brienne. ‘You fucking freak!’ He flinched at the barely intelligible and dirty insults he knew the wench or anyone for that matter did not deserve.

‘Stop it!’ He shouted as he shook his twin roughly.

‘You’re defending that ugly beast, Jaime? Are you really betraying me?’ Cersei stared at him with fury, fear, and anxiety. ‘I won’t let you! You can’t take this away from me, no one will!’

‘Shut up, Cersei!’ He held her firmly and turned to look at Brienne. ‘Wench--.’

Brienne was just watching that two of them. He couldn’t guess what she was thinking as her passive countenance remained. It was a stark difference compare to him and Cersei. Looking at Brienne his frayed patience was soothed.

But the wench turned around and started walking away without a word soon after. And the image of her turning away from him made him more fearful than the anger directed at him from his sister.

‘Brienne! Wait, where are you going?’ He immediately let go of Cersei to follow Brienne whose steps were speeding up turning into a jog. It took a sprint from him to finally catch up.

‘It’s not what you think,’ it was the first words that came out of his lips upon taking hold of her arms. He wasn’t even sure what the wench was thinking of the whole situation but whatever it was he knew it couldn’t be for his case but rather against.

‘What I think doesn’t matter. And I don’t care what that was all about. I’m leaving.’ She said brusquely shaking his hand from her.

He stared at her and he knew it was a lie that she didn’t care. Why else would she be even here?

‘Jaime!’ Cersei’s voice bellowed from where she stood at his doorstep.

He was thorn on what to do. He knew he was doing something irreparable with Brienne and the need to quickly straighten the matter was gnawing at him but Cersei’s insistent voice refused to be mollified. He had to take things one step at a time and pick his battle for now.

With a sigh he let Brienne go. The wench stared at him and for a moment he saw a bit of hurt in her blue eyes before she straightened her back and marched off. He watched as she walked farther and farther away. His feet itched to follow and stop her but his logical mind told him he couldn’t at least not yet. Logic was shit for choosing that moment to press itself on him.

He took a big gulp of air and turned back at his twin sister.

Cersei upon finally seeing him looking back at her had turned around and walked back into his house fully confident that he will be following her. Always so confident he 

And the wretched that he is did so.

‘Explain yourself, Jaime. What was that freak doing here?’ Cersei grated.

‘She’s no freak. If there is a freak here, it’s me. The both of us.’ He testily rebuffed, frustratedly combing back his hair in bottled up resentment and hurt. ‘What is it that you came here for, Cersei?’

‘I came here for you, Jaime! What else for? You haven’t contacted me. I haven’t heard back from you. I missed you. I missed us.’ It was almost laughable how Cersei kept changing her mood. One moment she was placating and the next she was seething mad like the she-devil herself.

‘Is there an ‘us’ still, Cersei? Didn’t you throw that out already? I tried to reach out many times, hundreds of times, it was you who turned your back at me first and every other single time I tried to talk to you, it was you who left me out in the cold. What did you expect of me? Wait for you quietly until you decide to throw me a bone when you feel like it?’ He paced the floor back and forth, his skin vibrating with the want to be elsewhere.

Cersei was once again sitting at a wingchair as untouched as she always acted in front of the cameras, so untouchable even to him at that moment. A familiar stab of hurt was felt right through his bones as he stopped and stared at Cersei.

Cersei met his gaze and all of a sudden it was once again as how they used to be, talking without words. They had always had that connection only two people who have shared a womb would ever know, an inexplicable bond that he had always felt tugging at him towards her. He had never once thought of denying that call, he willingly submitted to it, yielded and led to where they are now.

Cersei had been the center of his world for so long he was sure it had never been any other way.

But at the few seconds he looked at her he realized the cord he had always felt tied at him was willfully wielded by his twin on the other end while he was obliviously tethered. Because he loved her, still do, and will forever do.

‘Jaime,’ the whisper was half plea as she read the thoughts in his eyes.

He closed the space in her and crouched in front of her kneeling by her feet. He cradled her face on his palms, caressing her soft skin that was slowly getting cold as tears filled her eyes.

‘No, Jaime. No,’ she whispered with sorrow and disbelief.

‘My sister, how I loved you.’ He whispered as quietly.

‘You love me.’ She argued.

‘I do.’ He leant down their foreheads together as they so often did many times since they were children and maybe even when they were in their mother’s womb. ‘I love you still, dear sister. Cersei.’ He had the urge to kiss her quivering lips but at the last second he stopped as he stared at her green, green eyes. The hurting in her face was physically felt in every part of his body. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you wanted. I’m so sorry.’

‘No, Jaime.’ She gripped his hands around her face and tried to reach for his lips. He pulled away wishing to not be weakened by what he needed to do. ‘You won’t do this to me, Jaime.’ She said over and over again unwilling to let go of his hand.

For that instant he felt pity for her and for himself in turn and when Cersei saw it she let go of his hands with indignation. The tears quickly abated and the glassiness of her emerald eyes became as hot as it was cold with hate. It marred her beautiful face that had always been so regal. She was never angelic but a seductress, a queen. Once upon a time, his seductress, his queen, his muse. And now she won’t be any. 

‘You can’t turn your back on me, Jaime. You can’t and I won’t let you. You’re mine!’ The vehemence of her promise made him sadder than fearful. He wondered how long ago was it that Cersei looked at him with more adoration than spite or ire. When was it when he couldn’t get enough of her face, of her smile? All of it seemed long ago and almost as if they were just figment of his imagination that was never true.

He saw her dash away a recalcitrant tear before she stormed off with no second look and the heavy thud of the door was much as a reprieve as a burden.

He might not understand who dealt the two of them the current hand that they had received but he was sure at that very moment that whoever it was bore them no love at all. He was wretched the moment he was conceived.

He never did believe with the gods but he prayed at that few seconds for his sister’s happiness more than his own. He pleaded for them to forsake him if only they will lighten her heart.

Jaime, weakened as he was could only think of hammering and sanding to soothe his battered soul. And blue eyes, blue eyes might be able to save him. For some reason all he wanted at that moment is to be with the wench and the peaceful haven she had let him have even for such a short time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!


	13. Chapter 13

Brienne hammered and sanded and hammered and sanded again and again. She did everything with so precise movement and with so much passion you’d think her mind and soul was so invested as much as her every muscle and nerve was. But no her mind was floating, her every single thought was not within her control as much as she wielded her limbs, her hands, her fingers.

Jaime had it all.

And she absolutely hated it.

Her breathing was out of control, her chest constricted heavily with every breath she pulled failing to calm the disquiet she felt. She wanted to scream, to shout, and to beg for an answer that she would like to hear from him. Straight from his mouth, with his eyes looking directly at her, hear him answer her question like she deserves to hear every bit of it.

She held a particular lungful of breath in her chest and closed her eyes tightly before she could throw her hammer away, more specifically to the man who she knew was sitting down just a few feet behind her and leisurely doing seven gods know what.

But no, she was not prone to temper. She prided herself for her level-headedness at most times. She was or rather is a sensible person.

She let out the breath she was holding and placed the hammer she was currently shaking to make as a projectile down, her fingers felt stiff from being curled so tightly around its handle. Brienne took a few minutes to flex her fingers as she turned around and finally faced him.

Jaime was looking at her as if he was waiting for quite a while for her, his eyes took a glimpse at her moving fingers before ultimately looking back at her face again.

She tried to say a few words but her lips just parted but no sound came out as no words formed in her head.

She stared as he looked on. Jaime waited for her with uncharacteristic patience and she caved.

She turned and walked towards the pitcher of water feeling her throat turning arid parched.

Brienne heard rustling of movement and soon after Jaime was right behind her grabbing another glass and taking the pitcher from her grip. His fingers touched hers and she immediately pulled away and Jaime paused before continuing to pour himself a glass which he didn’t drink at all.

‘Talk to me, wench.’ Jaime commanded instead of asking.

The gall of him! She had nothing to explain. He was the one who left and came back, he was the one who turned her away when she made the effort to bridge the gap that he made. Wasn’t she?

Brienne looked at him, wanting to talk, to fling out accusation and blame but failing to find the words to represent what or how she felt, failing to understand why she was upset at all. She doesn’t even understand why she feel half the things she couldn’t describe so all she could do was to heave a heavy breath and walked away. Again.

It had been another three days since he showed up. It was the same evening as when she intended to clarify things with him, what she meant to clarify she can’t remember anymore. He pushed the large metal door of the warehouse and stood there looking at her as she violently hammered something with shape to be out of shape.

He didn’t say a word of apology or explanation and she didn’t ask for any. She just went back to hammering and he reclaimed the seat that had been empty for the last three days that he disappeared.

She argued with herself, one side wanting to ask, the other arguing she has no right to ask. After all, Jaime is her employer and she his employee. It doesn’t matter that Margaery thinks they are a hairsbreadth away from almost living together, spending so much time in the same space even more than a married couple had ever been. It didn’t matter that she knew his favorite food or that he doesn’t like peppers or peas. The fact that she knew he likes to be barefoot whilst he works doesn’t mean anything. Or that he now knows that she likes playing music from the Iron Borns while working but will never be caught listening to it otherwise.

She suppose they did spend so much time together not that it ever meant anything as despite always at each other’s presence and knowing his littlest quirks she realized they hardly know each other. Case in point, she didn’t understand Jaime. She doesn’t even know why she’s thinking about agonizing of not understanding him. She has absolutely no business as she had often said before to herself about a million times already with regards to Jaime Lannister’s life.

But it seemed that Jaime doesn’t share the opinion hence he situated himself right in front of her and stared. Brienne hated it when he looks at her. It always make her skin tingle or makes her armpit sweat up. He stared and she ignored him. At least she did try to ignore him but the man is incorrigible in his ways of annoying her and making her uncomfortable when he wants to.

‘Talk to me.’ He said again conveniently forgetting that he hates repeating himself with her as he often throws tantrum about it like a unmanageable 2 year old.

She denied him a reply if it’s the only thing she could do to spite him back. She loathes that his ways seemed to have rub on her.

He took the sanding paper she had grabbed at random from her hand. She grabbed for another one which he just took again. It was on the fourth and last sanding pad that she finally glared at him which found Jaime almost amusedly grinning at her. ‘Are you ready to talk now?’

‘What is there to talk about, Jaime?’ She yielded.

‘Cersei.’ He said in a whispered voice but firmly holding her gaze.

She kept quiet, pressing her lips into a tight line damming the many things she wanted to say in reaction to the name. When did she start having strong opinions of Cersei Lannister?

‘I’m not interested,’ she lied.

‘Bullshit, Brienne.’ Jaime said seriously.

‘Even if I have opinions of her, it doesn’t count for anything.’ She relented once more.

‘It counts for something. For some fucking reason it matters to me what you think.’ Jaime said, obviously frustrated about the seeming truth of that. ‘For some reason I just want to hear what you have to say, for some reason I want to explain myself to you!’

‘Y-you don’t have--.’

‘But I want to. Goddamnit!’ Jaime said angrily sure to her and to himself just as well. ‘I fucked my sister all these years and I felt no remorse for it. My little brother knows of it and I didn’t give a damn what he thought. But you!’ He burst angrily and stood up.

She was dumbstruck as she followed Jaime’s pacing.

‘I ended things with Cersei. Just so you know.’ Jaime paused and said with a clear voice.

‘I don’t know why you have to tell that to me.’ She quipped.

‘And I don’t know too---, but just listen for heaven’s sake!’ He commanded in the same tone that he always use which ever so often makes her quiet and listen.

Jaime looked at her and seemed satisfied when she didn’t utter another word.

He continued to pace.

‘She’s my twin. My other half you know.’ He started beseechingly it made her heart pinch for a second before she nodded upon realizing he was waiting for her acknowledgment of that fact. ‘All my life it was always the Cersei and Jaime show, I adored her, protected her, loved her just as much if not more than I loved myself. And I don’t know when that love started to change or if it really did change, maybe it was just worldliness that is bound to happen to any growing child. We learned many things together, taught each other many things---kissing, touching,’ Jaime sighed and paused again and she held her breath. A plea for understanding was in his eyes and she wanted to deny him, but she couldn’t. 

Jaime visibly took another breath as if bracing himself and continued. ‘Kissing, exploring each other. We were sixteen when we first had sex. Summer trip to Dorne.’ He paused and looked at her again for reassurance. She wasn’t sure if she was able to give it to him but Jaime just squared his shoulders and met her gaze finally completely stopping his pacing around. ‘There was no excuse and I never thought to excuse what I decided to do. Sure there’re times when I thought what I was doing was somehow not right, but I never thought it was ever wrong.’

Brienne had to close her eyes, unable to look into Jaime’s green ones. His voice swirled inside her head, his words echoing in her ears. She really didn’t give a damn just a few months ago. She was so sure about it but hearing him, sounding like a confession unwarranted.

They were no more than acquaintances, weren’t they? But he just had to tell her and she just had to listen to it. What is she to Jaime? What is Jaime to her? Can she define his role in her life just as how he was able to describe Cersei’s in his? Why does she feel the need to compare? Why?

‘Brienne.’ She heard his beseeching voice again. It wasn’t him and yet it was coming from him.

‘Why do I have to know this, Jaime?’ She asked painfully. She told herself over and over again that she didn’t have to know. She would have felt a lot better if she didn’t know the dynamics of the Lannister twins’ relationship.

‘Gods! I don’t know, Brienne.’ When she opened her eyes, she saw Jaime looking upward breathing raggedly and cursing under his breath. ‘I—I don’t know!’ The raw honesty and confusion was so discernible, she knew it was paining him and he continued to curse at himself, at everything, but never her. ‘Fuck!’

‘Jaime!’ She called up as she stood to approach him. He started pacing again agitatedly that she had to physically hold him in place. ‘Jaime, look at me.’ She copied his commanding tone and he stopped and met her gaze.

‘I wanted you to know.’

‘I understand.’ She didn’t understand anything nor saw the point but she nodded and lied if only to end his torment. ‘We don’t choose who we love, Jaime. We don’t,’ she whispered.

‘We don’t,’ he shook his head. ‘Fucking gods, we don’t.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been hostaged into watching TV series for the last couple of days. The time I usually use to write gave way to zombying to The Newsroom. My apologies.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His tongue took a life of its own and tasted her skin. It was salty and seven hell’s delicious.

‘Don’t you feel hot? I feel hot.’

The wench did not skip a beat in her pounding. The steady rhythm was soothing but at the same time damaging to his ego every second she chose to remain unperturbed by him.

‘Wench,’ he called out again nudging her knee spread wide as she straddled her work bench. ‘I’m hungry, wench. Let’s eat.’ He nudged again.

Brienne sighed loudly before glaring at him and finally standing up without a word. He stood up and followed her eagerly with an ear to ear grin.

The wench shoved two sandwiches on his hands. ‘Eat.’ She growled.

He happily took the cold sandwiches and ate it with gusto still smirking at the wench who glowered at her own food. He was amused to watch her tear the measly meal in much fewer bites considered proper by polite society.

She was about to go back to her work place eager to step away from him when he held her arms quickly chewing the bread he bit.

‘Something is seriously off with your temperature control.’ He quipped. He wasn’t saying this just to annoy her. The weather had turned really hot the past couple of days and the warehouse with no air-conditioning system had turned almost blistering. They had to resort into keeping the door wide opened but there was no breeze and the air is stale.

Margaery came by the other day and had raised an eyebrow at her friend for still wearing to him her usual work attire, a t-shirt under an overall jumper or sometimes cargo pants and her long-sleeved worn out shirts. Jaime for all the right thing in his head couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of how she survives the heat with such clothing. He had long forgone his shirt sleeves and even his t-shirt the past few days. He had been boiling hot most especially today and decided to go without a shirt at all. The sticky feeling of the stifling heat was lightly abated when he stripped the shirt but it was since then that Brienne had started glowering at him.

He’s pretty sure it was the heat getting to her head just as well.

Margaery commented how blistery hot it was and quipped the peculiarity of her friend too clothed, too covered than her usual hot season preferences. Brienne just glared at her friend especially when he started inquiring about it too.

He’d been complaining about the hot temperature for days with her and he had been grumbling about her choice of studio. He had quipped about the studios he could find for her just outside of Mud Gate where sea breeze could immediately cool them off and without the city walls blocking air circulation. He had taunted her endlessly too for the fact that she said she did not care for ice cream and chose to just iced her coffee instead even when he tried his utmost to entice her for a scoop of Dorne peaches flavoured ice cream. He was flabbergasted that she was able to say no to it commenting about how much sugar and calories one spoonful was.

He laughed at the fact that she was quite particular about calories when she was the one who drinks a mug of hot cocoa every night. Jaime was pretty sure she was just about to clock him on the head for that but at the last second she huffed and stomped away back to her work bench.

‘Wench, I will take no responsibility if you just collapse because of heat exhaustion. Don’t blame me if I can’t lift you up on the floor.’ He said with a shrug. ‘I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn with this. Do you have to be stubborn about everything?’

‘Can you give me a break, Jaime?’ Brienne shrugged his hold and all of a sudden she was furiously tugging at her shirt and pulling it off her. She threw the soiled shirt on the floor and hissed at him before marching away.

Jaime would have laughed. Gods, he would have laughed his arse off if only he could breathe properly sooner than later.

He watched the wench as she plopped down far from him still huffing. The wench sent him another glare for good measure when she was reaching for something behind her and finding him staring agape at her like a fool.

Brienne Tarth was sitting there glistening like the most delectable flesh he had ever seen in one lifetime too long. She was now sporting a black sports bra that was only hinted by her heavily soaked shirt before, it was a meager piece of clothing by her standards that he knew. The wretched piece of cloth, if it can be called as such, tauntingly exposed the wench’s broad shoulders, toned abdomen and barely concealed pebbled nipples. How on seven hell’s he saw that in the short glimpse he was rewarded he will congratulate himself later for.

Jaime felt his mouth dry up and a thirst he was unfamiliar with wrecked his senses as he stood there like a petrified boor that he was.

‘Damn!’ He hissed as he felt the very same stirring he can still vividly recall from not so long ago.

He wanted to look away but his body wasn’t his own and truth be told there was another want in him more powerful than the supposed need to look away from the wench.

And so he looked, and so he stared.

Her long neck was made more alluring with the unobstructed line from her nape to her shoulder blades. The freckles he had mused about once or twice or hells more than that in the past were visibly displayed on her pale shoulders. They were dusted enticingly like crystalline sugar that his tongue wanted to taste.

Jaime’s only idea of that part of a woman before was as something fragile under his hands but on Brienne it was a potent seduction. He gulped once or twice as he further traced the bare freckled skin with his eyes and imagining the time when his hands could caress the skin and taste it too. He could already see the redness his teeth and beard would leave on her lean back if he had his way with her. Among other things.

His feet unconsciously carried him closer to her which the wench just met with an unhappy glare.

‘I said, begged, for you to give me a break.’ She snapped.

He took the same seat he was occupying just a few minutes ago and sat there unceremoniously, his eyes still glued at Brienne.

‘So, you were feeling hot.’ He commented.

‘It’s a hundred degrees outside, Jaime. Go figure.’ Brienne said tartly. He couldn’t help but snigger at her admission.

‘Then why did you stay fuckingly covered up?’ He asked further.

Brienne glowered harder at the carving gouge she was holding, her long fingers with short nails gripping the handle tighter.

‘There’s company and I think it’s not right manners to be...--indecently exposed.’ She grumbled.

‘Indecently exposed?’ He chuckled making Brienne pout like a petulant child. A child only if one tries to ignore the pebbled nipples, he mused with a gulped hidden behind his saving beard. He pulled his eyes away from that particular part of her and sought her eyes. ‘How can you still think of that when it’s boiling hot?’

‘Well, I have, I have manners! Unlike some people,’ she glared at him unwilling to be doubted as to who she was referring about.

‘Nah, wench. I’m just not stubborn nor silly.’

‘I beg to differ.’ She huffed but did not continue any further to his dismay when she opted to go back ignoring him.

But there was no way she would let her do that. He had endured her silence long enough after that faithful night.

He knew the wench had forgiven him for all his exposed mistakes but after holding him that night, never letting go until they both woke up the following day she had curled back to her quiet civility with him. She had only said very little with him and that was with much prodding from him as it is.

Jaime had allowed it to continue for a week but he had just about enough. He realized that he was rather fond of hearing her voice more than the calming sound of her hammers and chisels.

‘What is indecent with how I look?’ He asked with a grin, purposely leaning closer to the wench. He nudged Brienne’s knee which she just pulled away from him. ‘Tell me, wench. Or are you just spouting words you don’t mean?’

Jaime playfully flexed his arms he was quite gifted with. So what if she’s just as fit? She was more pleasantly lean more than muscular he deduced as he obligingly perused her exposed body.

And he knew that she knew he was staring based on the goose bumps forming on her arms. He was inexplicably glad of the said unconscious reaction of her body to his stare.

It was during his downward gaze that he noticed a darker shade of white on her skin, a tip of an image just at the side of her rib, at the end of her sports bra.

‘Wench, is that tattoo?’ He pointed at the part of her body.

Brienne looked down to where he was looking and gave him a thrifty nod.

‘What is it?’

‘My family’s sigil.’ She said with a hint of pride.

‘May I see?’ He didn’t wait for her ascent as he swopped even closer and lifted her arms away from her body.

‘Jaime!’ The wench voice was ignored as he traced the tip of it with a finger.

His curiosity got the best of him as he let himself be satisfied of knowing the full image of it.

‘Jaime!’ Brienne’s voice was a notched higher when he slid the piece of clothing up her ribcage to expose a rippling shield with two crescent moons and two blazing suns, textured by waves that looked so alive on her pale skin. It was inked white a few shades darker than her own coloring.

‘It’s beautiful.’

He watched his hand traced the contour of it and heard a gasp from the owner of the tattoo that entrapped him.

When he looked up at Brienne, she was staring at him intently.

‘What are you doing, Jaime?’ She whispered.

‘I don’t know,’ he answered and leaned in further until his breath bounced back to him off her body. ‘I don’t know.’ He bridged the remaining distance and kissed the tattoo with much eager lips, his eyes never breaking contact with Brienne’s.

His tongue took a life of its own and tasted her skin. It was salty and seven hell’s delicious.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This convoluted chapter is Brienne's side of the story leading to Jaime's tattoo licking (I can't think of a catchier description, apologies).

Jaime’s shoulder silently shook in her arms.

She was at a lost on what to do but to hold him closer as Jaime burrowed deeper into her arms. The need to comfort welled out of her instinctively.

Brienne refused to think of it as anything more than being kind, whatever kindness one would give to someone severely injured, perhaps bird or a cub although the man’s solidity and warmth enclosed in her embrace was anything but small and easily broken.

It was a very long time before Jaime stirred.

He didn’t say a word as he pulled a bit away. Jaime avoided her gaze but held unto her firmly as if afraid she would flee. His hands were warmly implanted on her back, burning an imprint on her skin.

Jaime seemed to pull himself together as he let go of her only to wrap his hand around hers, never losing contact for even a moment in the agile movement.

She didn’t say a word when Jaime purposely walked towards the lumpy mattress she had been calling as her bed for the last weeks. He sat at the edge and pulled her closer, his hands holding on to hers still.

‘Just--just for tonight.’ He murmured finally meeting her gaze. There was nothing short of a death that could have made her deny the fervent need of what he was asking for from her in that sliver of a second. His verdant green eyes were clear and intent made sharper by whatever hurt he was feeling. Perhaps whatever embarrassment it had caused him to ask for comfort from someone like her, a notch over a stranger, was overcame by the need to ease the pain. There were moments in Brienne’s life that she had needed another human touch to alleviate her own hurting.

Her hands shook afraid to speak but unable to deny him. Her hands gave his a squeeze and Jaime leaned on to her hands and her heart almost broke at the gratitude the gesture showed.

She was tugged to sit down on the bed as well and Jaime leaned back to lie down, he slid to the wall and with her hand still folded with his, drew her with him.

Her back was pressed to his body as he moved to accommodate her to come closer. His hands simultaneously wrapped its way around her torso, reclaiming all the warmth she felt. For a moment she was confused as to who was giving and getting comfort.

Brienne remembered the only time she felt small and fragile and it was so many years ago when she was but a girl whom her father could still lift to sit on his lap, those days had long gone when she outgrew her own father. But in Jaime’s arms she felt... delicate. His hold was not tight as if aware of her lingering wariness to the close and intimate contact.

For a few beats they laid still, nothing could be heard but the distant sound of the outside world far from their cocoon made of limbs cautiously lying side by side. She could feel his breathing and his beard on her nape, fanning the seemingly over sensitive skin.

‘Thank you,’ she heard him murmured before she felt his hold tighten securely around her torso effectively pulling her even closer. She could feel him shaking still and she chose to wiggle for space which Jaime was hesitant to allow but conceded.

She turned around to face him and pushed her arms around him. ‘Sleep,’ she whispered when he lifted his head to catch her gaze. She didn’t want to think. There were so many things to think about. And she won over her own turbulent mind when she was lulled to a deep sleep with Jaime Lannister in her arms.

It was like that when she woke up the following day. There was a sigh of comfort in her lips when morning roused her.

Jaime was awake still in her embrace when she blearily opened her eyes. 

‘You’re comfortable to sleep with, wench.’ He commented upon realizing that she was awake.

She stared at him, unable to comprehend right away why Jaime Lannister was so close to her. When yesterday’s events started to seep in, she wanted to jolt out of his hold but the man seemed to have felt her immediate distress and chose to let go first but not after a firm press on her back, again it was warm.

Jaime got up languidly in difference to her shooting up from the bed as soon as his hold was released. Jaime sat on the bed with his back on the wall delectably disheveled.

Jaime grinned at her easily, traces of the night before erased or hidden behind his usual cockiness and playful grin. His hair was tussled handsomely she was sure was a stark contrast to her bird’s nest.

Brienne stared at him trying to find something, any trace of the hurt, of that wounded Jaime she didn’t think existed before last night. But if it was there, Jaime was able to hide it from the obvious surface and now she couldn’t help but wonder if the cocky grin and sure smile was nothing but a facade to cover up a more sensitive man few people know and less he would willingly show to.

‘You squeeze pretty good too.’ He commented, winking at her teasingly.

Brienne wasn’t too sure whether to feel relieved to not have to deal with emotional unknown territories with Jaime again or be annoyed that the insufferable him seemed to be back with no remorse.

‘I’ll make coffee,’ she opted as she turned back to head for the kitchenette they had made. She could hear Jaime slowly get up from her bed, the sound deliberate to her ears, and spied him on the coffee urn languidly stretching as if no care in the world could faze him.

She immediately gazed away when he started walking towards her. As if all the skittishness she had of him had came back all in one go after a night’s absence, she made hurried steps towards the bathroom with a lame murmur of an excuse to wash her face.

Brienne closed the door after her with Jaime staring at her amusedly, his proverbial grin was knowing. She stared at her face and realized she was bright red, part because of just waking up and the more possible reason, the man outside the bathroom.

She splashed water on her face to cool herself off as the events of the last night were meticulously dissected in her head but alas to no credible conclusion. But she admits that she felt relatively glad that Jaime was back to his usual self. She still doesn’t quite know how she handled him last night when he was much vulnerable. She’d rather have him cocky and incorrigible.

‘Wench, the coffee is ready.’ Jaime knocked on the door startling her.

‘Yes, I’ll be out in a minute.’

‘You’ve been there long enough. Come out!’ She sighed and with a roll of her eyes she patted her face dry and tried to pull her hair in a semblance of order. In futility.

When she opened the door, she was surprised to still find Jaime standing close by as if he had been waiting for her to step out.

‘You should have told me you needed to use the bathroom,’ she commented as she moved out of his way.

‘Nah, it looked like you needed the space.’ He said with a grin and with one too many meaning.

She decided to ignore his comment and made her way to the coffee pot to pour herself a cup. Jaime was too close behind her.

‘Can you step a bit away?’ She finally asked when she bumped into him upon turning to go to her usual seat before she heads out for her run. ‘Please.’

The insufferable oaf just grinned at her and even stepped closer to her as he poured his own cup of coffee. She groaned and elbowed her way around him.

Brienne drank her coffee faster than usual just so she could get away from Jaime. She grabbed her runners at the same time she finished her coffee with Jaime staring at her fixedly.

‘Running,’ she informed him dumbly when she was ready to step out.

‘Can I deter you from leaving me behind?’ Jaime commented as he followed her out but stopping before stepping over to the roughly paved street.

She just frowned at the question and Jaime just shrugged. ‘No hurt in asking.’

She stretched as per usual and was disconcerted with the knowledge that Jaime was still there watching her. He had seen her do her usual routine before but it was never as awkward. Well, he never did stare as much before. Or so she believed.

But before she could let her mind wander off into the discussion if Jaime had stared at her as intently as before she decided to shake it off and run in a faster sprint than she would have preferred. Jaime was still watching her when she succumbed to the urge to look back and she tripped on an invisible pebble.

Halfway through her run Brienne had to stop. She realized that she was already on her way back to the warehouse much earlier than her everyday route which she find terribly odd. She denied that she wanted to go back and see the person she left behind. And in the effort to prove that no she didn’t want to see Jaime Lannister that much she decidedly run much harder, took a longer route, and set an almost punishing phase. Her one hour run folded to a two hour walk sprint.

She was drenched in sweat with the sun already setting a high temperature for the rest of the day. With her heaving lungs and jellied legs, she pushed her way in to the warehouse in much need of water and almost dreads the much needed cool down her punishing run entails.

‘You took your time, wench.’ Jaime said with a rather unhappy frown. He surveyed her soaking self and the gasping breathing. Jaime offered her a bottle of water still unhappy as she did her cool down exercise.

She noticed afterwards that Jaime was bathe and wearing fresh clothes. Once again a startling yet unavoidable difference on their appearances.

‘Get cleaned up, I brought food.’ Brienne nodded and followed Jaime’s instruction eager to strip off the drenched t-shirt she wore.

When she emerged half human again, Brienne had to stare and blink multiple of times upon seeing the monstrous spread that Jaime was standing beside with.

‘Jaime, what’s that?’ She asked incredulous.

‘Food.’ He answered cheekily. ‘C’mon, I’m starving.’

‘But I don’t eat this much so early in the day.’ She complained even when she was led to sit down at their small table filled and spilling with food. From hearty porridge to sweet pancakes, savory hash, sausages and an array of fruits, she didn’t know which smell assaulted her first.

‘I can’t allow you to hunger me any longer.’ Jaime said and when she looked at him it was as if he was meaning something else other than food. His smile made her peer suspiciously which he returned with a cheekier grin. 

She gulped nothing unable to retort back. Had she known it was the start of more changes with Jaime and herself she would have bolted to somewhere far far away.

 

It was a new routine which wasn’t terrible to get used to but still quite disconcerting. The brunch was one of the biggest hurdle for her. Jaime insisted on piling up her plate which she just heap back to his. The back and forth had been as much as a routine as everything else in their domesticity.

The day Margaery pop by was a day she never thought would ever come when her only friend would make her wish she had no friends at all. Margaery on that Wednesday was what people talk about, what would you need enemies for when you have such a friend.

Margaery pointed at the heap of clothes waiting to be laundered. She didn’t have to say a word or do the eyebrow wiggling to relay the less than wholesome thoughts she had of Brienne and Jaime. She just lamely glared at her so called friend, unable to rebuff with Jaime hovering around.

Jaime had been hovering for the lack of a better word. Well, maybe not quite hovering but just constantly present. The day after her grueling run it seemed that Jaime did not just brought in a fest for breakfast but a suitcase of his stuff as well.

She had stared at it. Jaime was right behind her and reasoned that he had all the intention of being clean and thus requires change of clothes and his toiletries of which only his toothbrush was ever used as he always filched hers. She did like though the toothpaste that he brought.

For all the clothes that he brought with him though, the ones that was mixed with her own pile of clothing just on the third day of him not going home, he was seen with too little of it. The insufferable git had complained about the weather one too many a time she threatened to hammer him on the head. Hurdle number, 2 and 3. He traipsed around shirtless which Margaery obviously enjoyed to which the foolish man grinned about. She frowned most of the time and she definitely didn’t like how Jaime and Margaery was in cahoots in poking her about it. One with her teasing look and the other obliviously parading himself to the detriment of her poor poor eyes.

But if there was one thing out of all the things that Jaime had presented to their living arrangement of two weeks the most bothersome one if not most perplexing was his insistence with their sleeping situation.

On the second night that he had stayed over, just before 10 he was already fluffing the pillow on her mattress and stretching the fitted sheet on it.

‘What are you doing?’ She asked with her two eyebrows raised to meet her hairline.

‘Getting ready for bed,’ Jaime answered without care as he patted the spot he was ready to take.

‘You’re not sleeping there. That’s my bed.’ She reasoned most logically.

‘It was your bed last night too and will be still by tomorrow and yet I slept on it too. Although, if you would let me it’ll be my most precious pleasure to have it replaced with something more appropriate.’ He suggested most seriously.

‘No, Jaime! Last night...last night was a onetime offer.’

‘Don’t be so stingy, wench.’ Jaime pouted.

‘No. I will not budge on this one. You've bulldozed your way around here but not my bed.’ She said stubbornly just about short to stomping her feet.

Jaime rolled his eyes at her but did not move from sitting on her bed. ‘Well, there’s no way I can have a bed arranged to be here for tonight so you have to put up with sharing.’ He said with finality as he lay down and immediately close his eyes.

‘Jaime!’ She protested but the git feigned sleep.

She pulled one of the pillows he fluffed and marched to Jaime’s chair, the one that was once hers but he had claimed to be his by then. She was folding herself in it when Jaime strode to her and tugged her up and to the mattress.

‘You’re unbelievably stubborn, wench. It’s only for a night.’ He said as he pushed her on it and followed her soon after not letting her argue any longer. When he laid down beside her she wiggled and made a gap between the two of them enough for another person thus bringing her to the edge of the mattress. However awkward and uncomfortable it was she was able to fall asleep.

She woke up though the following day with Jaime’s arms and a hairy leg wrapped around her.

‘I saved you from falling,’ was his only given reason. She harrumphed but had let it go because even if she hadn’t admitted it, it was quite a restful sleep no matter how uncomfortable it should have been with his heavy leg or the stifling heat.

Jaime had lied though about getting a bed. When she went out for a run that morning, true he arranged for a mattress and an actual bed along with it but he also arranged for her lumpy mattress to be taken away.

Jaime had a self-satisfied grin when she came back like the cat who ate the canary. She glared but that night they basically performed the same argument but she lost that one as well. Whether willing or not, Jaime didn't press. He just pulled her again closer and woke up the next day with his hairy leg over her thighs and breathing on her nape. The new mattress was definitely a lot comfier that she’ll ever be able to afford.

Despite their close proximity at night, Brienne made it a point to take space during day time. She had spoken scarcely with Jaime in hopes that whatever was happening between them remains in the cloak of the dark that need no more scrutiny than warranted. But Jaime had other ideas.

He continuously prodded her to talk, to argue. More often than not he wins with effort if only she would snap at him.

But never did she imagine that for every awkward and annoying argument she had with Jaime that it will come to that point.

Jaime’s breath fanned her heated skin, like stoking a slowly blazing fire in her body with a touch of his lips. A shiver ran through her spine as she felt his tongue flick a sensitive part of her she thought she’ll never know, never imagined to know. His hand was firm and steady on her arm, steadying on her weakened state and securing her in place. But she had no will nor power to move away, she was easily all softened limbs and oversensitive body, on his touch, on his tongue.

‘I don’t know,’ Jaime’s raspy voice was as ragged as lost as she felt to the same sensation both holding them tightly.

Brienne could only close her eyes and feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit late and because I lingered longer than usual it turned longer than anticipated. I had problems with consistency so I hope that when I edit it eventually (as I haven't given this a read over first before posting) I would not have to make any major changes.
> 
> I have lousy editing policies (non-existent policies, to be honest).


	16. Chapter 16

He watched Brienne closed her eyes and reached around her waist to wrap his arm on her torso, her slight curve a pleasant fit. Brienne was pliable yet sturdy as she fell closer to him as if she was completely over taken by her own senses just as much as he was.

‘Jaime,’ her breathy voice was so unlike her and yet unmistakably her. Her calloused hands found purchase on him, then feeling, then touching. He never thought such imperfection to feel so extraordinary as it glided along his shoulder and gripped on his nape.

‘Brienne, Brienne.’ He murmured her name possessively over and over as if his tongue was savouring the sound of it. Her audible gasp and pants stoked the blaze in him.

Her side was flushed onto his chest as she was seated on his lap before they could both realize anything with his arms tightly holding her in place. Her long legs were both graceful and clumsy as it stretched and bent out in front of her. He wished her ratty trousers weren’t hiding the long limbs he rather wished he could caress up and down.

‘Kiss me, wench.’ He whispered with a groan, begged even, as if he could be denied if she chose to.

‘Why?’ He heard her ask, stubborn even at the most inopportune of moments.

‘Just kiss me,’ he growled.

Brienne’s blue eyes opened up and stared at him. He saw the almost hypnotic way her ceruleans grew darker, from the center outwards until it was dark that his reflection was so clear. She was looking at him, her full attention was his and his alone at that moment. She looked at him as how she perused her carvings, with inquisitive care and almost reverent gaze.

Her full lips descended upon his slowly, awkwardly and unsure. It was mere seconds perhaps but it could have been ages before he finally felt her mouth on his. It was a mere touching of more sensitive parts of their body. It was far from a kiss he knew of and needed but the brief contact was electrifying none the less.

There was a groan of frustration or of relief, he doesn’t know, that emerged from his lungs and he clamored to taste and to feel more. It seems that with the wench around he’s starting to understand less and less of things he feel and things that he do.

Jaime felt Brienne’s lips still over his, quivering for the tiniest bit. He wanted to rein the quickly growing urgency. He didn’t want to scare her, gods he didn’t want her to pull away. But his body was not his own. It moved, his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his cock. Like everything in him was under beguiled by her.

He took her bottom lip between his teeth, cajoling for her to move, to part her trembling lips.

The wench gasped and a shudder ran through her body that travelled to him when he first swiped his tongue at her upper lip. He felt himself smile and felt his groin tingle, his cock twitching from a mere gasp. How the mighty had fallen.

Brienne’s fingers dug on his shoulders harder, her short nails probably leaving crescent moons much like her tattoo on his skin. He pulled her closer grabbing the back of her neck to guide her movement as he ached for more contact, to get drunk on a satisfying kiss.

It was a painful pleasure when finally Brienne parted her lips for his tongue to explore. She was passive only for a few moments as if learning how he moved, the tentative movements of her tongue mimicked his own. He tasted every corner she offered, the taste that he will now always remember as Brienne’s, heady with the smallest hint of savoury sweetness.

He took and took, drunk and drunk from her who poured to him like a fully tipped pitcher. Their guttural groans, mixed together in that stifling hot warehouse with everything forgotten and only to get closer, to touch, to taste was all that mattered. He didn’t dissect as to what was causing the devastating attraction, her ungainly body, the flat chest, the lean body, nor her plain, ugly face. But something with the wench was making his blood boil, for a while now, perhaps even before he watched her eat that bowl of wretched stew.

It could be just nothing but a biological need of a man’s body for release. But he had no time to think and analyze. Brienne was ripe for the taking in his arms.

He grinded himself on Brienne’s hip, desperate for a contact to alleviate the building need for relief. He wanted to burry himself in her and spend himself inside completely until no energy is left in his body. He wanted her with a furious need that should have scared him but which he tried to shove at the back of his mind, tried forgetting all the other times when lust took control of his being. Destroyed him, hurt him.

His body froze. His body remembered. Maybe his soul did.

His lips quivered as if wanting to continue kissing the wench who had her eyes closed, as drunk as he was seconds ago. His tongue retracted out of her mouth and it was only a moment’s pause, a few more beats when Brienne realized his hesitation.

Brienne opened her eyes which met his, blue gazing in green, green eyes staring fervently back at her darkened blue ones. She looked at him and he knew she read whatever had stopped him from devouring her, what he didn’t want her to see. Had he been given a second more of her taste he would have been happily fucking Brienne now, happily and sated until the next day if only his twin’s memory spared him.

But Cersei was never known to give up her hold on anything she thinks she owned. Brienne knew there was no going back to that burst bubble, he realized when he saw something ease from her eyes.

There was a bit of relief in her when she pushed away with force from him and stood. Brienne’s knees noticeably shook under her as she steadied her legs.

She didn’t meet his eyes any longer but instead calmly walked towards her shirt that was still on the floor and with only a shaking of her hands to belie her calm, put it back on hiding the pale skin that had him enamored, almost bewitched.

Her back was rigid despite the shaking of her legs just moments before. There was something proud on her squared shoulder but at the same time there was vulnerability that he knew he caused.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ He cursed frustratedly. To himself, to Cersei, to Brienne. He cursed at the wench for being able to see whatever she saw in his eyes.

He might have frozen but gods knew he wouldn’t have let her go. She felt damn good in his arms. His cock was still hard, his hands still wanted to explore her skin. ‘Gods’ hells!’ He shouted which startled the wench who was still visibly dazed and confused.

Jaime rather liked the flushing of her whole face, not just the cheeks but of every part of her pale skin. Her freckles visibly darkening with what her obviously lustful state.

He stood up to approach Brienne, adjusted his tightened pants on his uncomfortable manhood. But before he could reach her his phone in his pocket started vibrating. He pulled it out cursing with all the intention of turning it off when he saw the name of whoever was calling.

It was his father’s personal assistant.

He groaned some more, now more with annoyance than anything else for the bad timing.

‘Answer it,’ he heard Brienne say. He looked up at the wench who wasn’t even looking at him but he knew that a wall was quickly being erected around her and it was all to keep him out.

‘Fuck!’ He spat again before he answered the phone that kept vibrating still on his hand. ‘Jaime Lannister.’ He answered tersely, dripping with annoyance.

‘Mr. Lannister, the president wants to talk to you. Let me patch you to his line.’ The professional voice was gone in a beat and was replaced with ringing. His father took five rings before he deigned it ready to pick up.

‘Tywin Lannister,’ his father’s just as terse answer said on the other line. Jaime was disconcerted with the fact that the way his father spoke was almost reminiscent of his own.

‘Father,’ their greeting for each other done.

‘Where have you been, Jaime?’ Tywin Lannister asked in the line. Anyone who might have been listening may have taken it as a father’s inquiry of his son’s whereabouts but to Jaime or any of his siblings would have heard the underlying admonishment and warning immediately.

But Jaime for once couldn’t be bothered what his father thinks. He just wanted the conversation to be over and to go back in breaking down the wall that the wench was trying to build with her staunch silence.

‘I’m working, father.’ He said impatiently, not hiding his irritation at all.

‘Fooling around with an unproductive artisan is not what anyone would call work, Jaime.’ Jaime gritted his teeth. Even without seeing his father, he could already imagine the condescending look the stoic man had. 

‘Fathe--!’

‘Jaime, show yourself at the office. I’ve tolerated your capriciousness long enough.’ There was finality on Tywin Lannister’s voice, one that whoever heard would certainly heed.

But Jaime wasn’t listening as he watched Brienne disappear into the bathroom, the sound of its door closing ominous.

‘Father, I have to go.’ He said with the full intent to end the conversation. Disregarding the fact that Tywin Lannister is never to be dismissed by anyone, the wretched man thinks it was sole created by the gods for him alone.

‘Don’t be a fool, Jaime. Show up or--.’ He turned the phone off before his father could relay his threat. He knew he’ll pay for that sooner than later but at that moment he couldn’t be bothered to think of the consequences.

He approached the still closed door of the bathroom. At least at that moment he wasn’t steel hard anymore and his head was a little clearer.

‘Wench,’ he knocked a few times at the door. ‘Wench, open the door.’

He was surprised when it was immediately opened. Brienne was staring at him straight which was more disconcerting than her avoiding his gaze. Her face was wet and red as if she had furiously scrubbed her face. In particular her fleshy lips was plumped for his kiss and from furious scrubbing that a bit of blood can be seen. He frowned at it and attempted to reach for her face. But the wench evaded his touch and his gaze once more.

‘Do you have to go?’ She asked as she walked past him. The casualness was obviously faked and he didn’t like it none the less. He was annoyed by it.

‘No.’ He followed her closely.

The wench was acting normally as if the events of few minutes ago did not happen. And that can’t be.

‘Wench, about earlier,’ he started.

‘Jaime,’ Brienne turned and faced him, her face pleading. The normalcy she was trying to adopt failed to hold up. ‘Let’s just forget about it, okay? Can we?’ Then there was a frown on her forehead but what’s more amazing was the irritation in her eyes. And all that irritation was for him.

‘Forget about it?’ He asked incredulously.

‘I don’t know what has gotten into me. To you. I know you were just teasing me earlier and… and I was just calling you out on it. And…and…,’ she ran out of words and stopped abruptly, pressing her lips tightly together, the very same lips that he wanted to kiss senseless earlier, still want to kiss senseless up to now.

‘And what, wench?’ He combed his hair back in disbelief of her. He refused to believe that she didn’t feel his cock pressing on her that she could now doubt the reality of his want for her. ‘And what?’

‘Cut it out, Jaime! Let’s not talk about it anymore. I don’t know what you wanted me to do! It was a joke, I get it. I stupidly fell for it.’

‘You’re as stupid as you are stubborn, wench. Truly maddeningly so!’ Jaime pulled Brienne swiftly by the back of her neck and crashed his lips into hers.

There was a growl of satisfaction as he pushed his tongue in her mouth. She resisted, clamping her lips close, gritting her teeth. He persisted, cajoled and coaxed her lips, massaged and prodded by his tongue to open up. He nipped her fleshy lips between his teeth and sucked them as if he was seeping out the taste of her into his system. It tasted copper but the underlying taste he had now associated with her was still there.

She fought staunchly but her will was no match to her lust, to be taken seriously. Brienne relented with a lick to the corner of her lips she sighed and Jaime took the infinitesimal opportunity and delved inside her mouth like a thirsty man of a desert.

Brienne moaned into their kiss and he pulled her body closer. Jaime let her feel the steely hardness of his cock on her lean thighs that immediately reacted to her. He hissed at the sensation of her heat on him. She was warm, so very gratifyingly warm.

‘There’s no fooling around in what I want with you, wench. I’ll fuck you very soon and I swear to all the gods that it will be of no joke. And you’ll let me, gods you will.’ He whispered to her ear before he abruptly eased away from her.

Brienne stared at him wide eyed and slack jawed. He couldn’t help but take another swig of her taste as he swooped for another loud kiss, shorter but still satisfying if only to leave her more astounded. He grinned.

Brienne clocked him on the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the late post. Life got in the way. As always.


	17. Chapter 17

The oaf was laughing. She could hear him.

‘Wench!’ He hollered. ‘Weeench!’ He called again leaning his head out from the open door of the bathroom.

‘What?’ She answered irritatedly with a menacing glare fit to shrivel any lesser man to a prune. She tried her best not to look or talk to him but based on previous experiences, she knew how relentless and untiring Jaime can be when he doesn’t get his way. So most often than not these days she ends up conceding.

‘You pack a mean fucking punch!’ And the fool laughed again with disbelieving shake of his golden head, caressing his jaw.

He was talking about the yellowing bruise on the side of his face. It was a mad purple just a few days ago but it’s now so ever slowly healing. As if the bruise didn’t want to leave to continue in tormenting her.

He had it coming that was for sure is what she repeatedly telling herself. So she refused to feel guilty about it.

She huffed as she put on her running shoes and tried to ignore him again. She winced at the ache on her hip as she stretched, only one of the many muscles in her body that throbbed dully, once more cursing the golden fool.

Every night after she punched him had been a struggle, a brawl to be exact. She was sure it wasn’t only her imagination when she felt that her brain turned into mush when Jaime Lannister jokingly kissed her. She was sure that the popping she heard was the fizzle of water as her brain fried.

She ought to pack her stuff and walk away. She knew she should not stand for the repeated insult that Jaime throws at her. Every time he teases her or touch her or even look at her, she just knew he was laughing his ass off at her expense. He must get a great kick whenever she’s reduced to spluttering or a full body blush like an idiot.

Because that had to be it, that could be the only reason.

Brienne was never for sugar coating of things. She knows how she looks and her eyes are good enough to gauge the disparity of Jaime’s physical appearance with hers it’s even ridiculous to compare any further. She had long passed feeling scornful of that part of herself, she had accepted it and learned how to live with it.

And yet Jaime insist on sharing sleeping space, fights her with it, pins her, and always always she succumbs. She is a fool. A big ugly fool.

She fights him night after night with the full intent of winning, of getting away but his tenaciousness always prevail for some reason. If it was of strength alone they would have been equal but if will is to be considered, some nights Brienne feels that hers was a notch shy to Jaime’s.

Something in her shivers at the sight of Jaime as he blocks her punches with a laugh but with gravity that weighs to overcome her resistance. He had almost an unbreakable need to pin her on the bed when she let her defences slip. The grin that he beams at her when he finally emerged victorious, sweat dripping down her face, a bead slipping to her lips salty.

He’d grin with the bruise on his face as a medal of honor.

She would try to land a few more blows but even Jaime knew that by then she had conceded defeat until the next night. So she would huff and Jaime would just position the both of them to a comfortable sleep.

Those nights were most comfortable, tired out from working the whole day and wiped out after a vigorous tussle. With Jaime’s limbs trapping her in, she had learned to appreciate the feel of being in an embrace however much she tries to deny it to herself.

Jaime emerged out of the bathroom washed and shirtless.

‘You’re heading out for your run?’ He asked despite being completely aware of her daily schedule by then.

He turned towards the coffee maker and frowned at it.

‘Something seems to be wrong with it,’ she commented about the coffee pot not turning on to make coffee for the both of them.

‘I’ll have it ready when you return, ma’am.’ He said grinning at her once more.

She nodded with a roll of her eyes and tightened the lace of her runners before heading out. Jaime followed behind her as per his own routine and sent her off with a light touch to her waist which always make her feel warm and if truth be told annoyingly giddy deep inside.

When she returned, Jaime was scowling as he leaned on his gleaming red car with his hands on his pockets.

‘Why are you here?’ She asked startling him out of what seemed to be deep musing.

Jaime looked up with the frown still on his face.

‘Get in, we’re having a decent breakfast elsewhere.’ He said. The familiar bossiness was back again which startled her as well. Jaime turned to his car with the full intent of getting on but glared at her when she remained standing a few feet behind him. ‘I said get in!’

‘I know! But why?’ She said scowling back at him, refusing to be cowered. Besides, she had no intention of being in such a small space as his car anytime soon. She’s had enough trouble with moving around him with over a thousand square feet of space as it is, she can only imagine the horror of the insides of a Valaryan.

‘Like I did not expect this,’ she heard Jaime murmur. She could only huff and was about ready to go inside the warehouse when Jaime grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her to the other side of the car.

‘Jaime!’ She protested as she tried to shake off his hold to no avail.

‘Wench, gods I swear I will give a hand and a foot if you’d only listen to me for once! You stubborn…!’

Brienne glared at him daring him to finish his sentence as he pushed her bodily down to sit on the low sports car.

Jaime shook his head in frustration but grinned and swooped down at her. In reflex she was able to dodged but hit her head on the low ceiling of the car.

‘See what you get when you fight this, Brienne?’ Jaime stared at her, grin quickly replaced by seriousness she didn’t understand. Jaime took hold of her neck and pulled her close. ‘There’s no use to fighting me, fighting this.’ He murmured close to her lips before bridging the remaining gap.

She could only gasp as Jaime tugged her bottom lip between his teeth. Her eyes automatically closed on its own waiting for his kiss like a fool.

But it was only air that she felt. When she gingerly opened her eyes Jaime Lannister was looking at her with a self-satisfied smirk. He motioned for her to move further inside which she followed dazedly before he closed the door of the car.

She watched him jogged to the other side, the frown on his face earlier now gone and replaced by the almost annoying gorgeous smile. It was her turn to pout and grumble.

Jaime took her to a casual café just outside of Cobbler’s Square. But still he refused to tell her as to why he insisted that they go out. Afterwards, instead of driving back to the warehouse he said they had to buy supplies. Whatever supplies it was he didn’t say, just that it will be on company card and he told her to go crazy.

She spied him on the phone when she was caught up in ordering all the materials that she used to be often wary in buying due to price. Her student budget can only afford so much.

The cashier was looking at them curiously when she called Jaime over when she was ready to pay for all her orders. He was still on the phone and was clearly arguing with who was on the other line.

When he saw her looking at him he abruptly end the phone call before walking up to her at the cashier.

‘Everything okay?’ She asked.

Jaime just shrugged and handed his credit card to the woman who was still curiously looking at the two of them. She just know what was going through the woman’s head, how an unlikely pair the two of them were. How she wanted to tell her that it was all for work and nothing more. But she couldn’t get to utter the words as deep inside she didn’t fully believe it for all the things that had happened, the things that she let to happen. And she suck at lying after all.

‘Can you make the delivery at the end of the week?’ Jaime said to the cashier who couldn’t help but flutter her lashes at Jaime who was oblivious seeming to still be thinking deeply on his own.

‘She said it can be delivered by today,’ she butted in.

‘Make it Friday.’ He stated.

‘But--,’ Jaime didn’t seem to hear her or just pointedly ignored her.

Jaime held her by the wrist and pulled her out of the warehouse. When they were out and relatively away from anyone she forcefully tugged her hand from his.

‘What’s wrong, Jamie?’ She asked with her feet her firmly on the ground. She knew that Jaime got the picture that she won’t budge unless he starts talking when he let out a sigh with an exasperated roll of his eyes.

‘A limb and a half just to get her to listen,’ he murmured with the very intent for her to hear.

She harrumphed.

‘Start talking,’ she ordered.

Jaime stared at her and laughed, frustrated and amused it seemed.

‘Wench,’ he grinned before pulling her close catching her off guard when his lips landed on hers. His tongue prodded her lips to part and she wasn’t even able to set up her defences at the unexpectedness of it. His tongue licked and tasted, teasing hers to play along. His hand urged her head to angle against his for a more comfortable contact and she was compliant. His kiss was playful but evolved into something far from being innocent. He thrust his tongue in and out in her mouth as if mimicking more carnal activities he’d rather do it seemed. 

There was no resistance in her. If there was a fight in her it melted away quickly with Jaime’s soft lips and warm tongue, and the taste of coffee mixed with something inherently Jaime’s. He tasted something that was intoxicating. ‘You know your stubbornness is turning me on.’ He whispered soon after with his arms snaking around her and he wasn’t lying when she felt a particular bulge prod her leg.

‘Jaime!’ She pushed him away with aghast that they both know lacked conviction and he just laughed as he rubbed himself at her leg with a delicious groan before letting her go.

She was flushed red at the gall of the man. Her knees shook a bit at the sudden rush of something that used to be unfamiliar and yet starting to become a common occurrence with Jaime around. And she was torn with hating and craving it at the same time.

Jaime was grinning at her as he got in the car. He might be grinning but it must have been painful when he groaned as he adjusted his jeans as he sat himself in the car.

‘Get in, wench.’

She looked at him and tried to wrap her head around what was happening.

Are men really that easy to turn on? She wondered.

It just couldn’t be true. With her mind going afloat, she robotically sat on the passenger seat when Jaime pushed open the door for her. Her knees still felt jelly.

‘You’re an insufferable git, Jaime Lannister.’ She murmured. ‘But you’re still answering my question.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He answered. ‘I bet you’re wet though.’ He laughed when she spluttered before she could retort back.

He was right after all.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And he wanted to devour her, inhale her, consume her at that very second. He wanted so much it hurts. He wanted to touch her but his hands just wouldn't move.

It was hard to drive. And he was hard.

He watched Brienne subtlety rub her legs together, failing stealth.

He let out a snort at her attempt to hide it when he was very much aware anyways of how much he affects her. Not that he’s gloating or anything. She had to be affected as much as he is, if not more, or his ego will definitely be beaten up.

‘What?’ Brienne glared.

‘Nothing, wench. I was just thinking I can help you with that,’ he eyed her thighs unconsciously rubbing still.

‘With what?’ She scowled and followed where he was looking at and immediately flushed again.

He couldn't help but grin as he tried to reach for the space between her thighs which wasn't so hard given the small space and her long legs that were only able to fit in the tiny car as the leg space was customized for him but the wench just batted his hand rather forcefully and he would have minded the sting if not for how much he likes it when she glares at him. However, he refused to think that he’s a masochist.

He couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. Brienne was no beauty scowling or not but for some reason he doesn't mind it at all. More than entertainment, he finds that her many irritated expression that he induced from her enthralls him so much.

He likes the perverse feeling of knowing he made her scowl, glare, flush, and unwittingly swoon despite her denial of it.

‘I’ll break your bones one of these days, Lannister.’ She threatened before turning away and visibly stilling the movements of her body as she stiffly looked away from him. ‘Now spill what’s been eating you. Don’t think that you’ve distracted me.’ She said without looking at him.

He sighed.

He didn't want to let her know but he should have known that the wench will pry it out of him. Jaime supposes it wasn't just her who’s getting easier to read. After all they have spent every waking hour with each other for months now.

The last time he had spent this much time with anyone was with only one other person. Cersei. He knew her more than he’d ever known himself and she to him. It was the most intimate of knowledge of anyone, they knew each other’s mind, they knew of each other’s body. It was something that isn't comparable and uneclipseable by any other relationships in their lives in this lifetime.

Or so he wants to believe.

Yet here he was contemplating the peculiarity of starting to know someone else or at least wanting to know someone else more, more than he’d ever wanted to know anyone since after Cersei. He wants to know the wench so much more for some reason. The want was there as well. The burning urge to fuck he had only felt for Cersei before was undeniably present. And it was too much of a bother to think much of it.

‘Jaime?’ Brienne was staring at him with a furrow between her brows.

‘Someone at the main office was power tripping. Nothing to be concerned about.’ He lightly informed her but of course Brienne was not to be easily brushed off.

‘Power tripping? What does that mean?’ She asked twisting her body to face him better seemingly have forgotten that she was upset with him.

‘Cut our electricity off and attempted to release our lease on the warehouse.’ He shrugged and yet watching the wench carefully as he drove. ‘I’ve had my assistant manage it.’ He assured her.

‘But why?’ She said in alarm as if he didn't even try to dissuade her worry.

‘Brienne, calm down. It’s been settled.’ He placated her not liking the worry on her face.

‘Are they cutting my contract? Is it because I haven’t had a proper commission? I should be doing work, Jaime!’ She was getting hysterical.

‘Brienne!’ He raised his voice over hers and it caught her attention. When he looked at her, her blue eyes were swimming and something inside of him cracked and melted at the same time. He grasped for her hand gripped on the side of her seat. ‘It’s been taken care of. Trust me.’ He said in his most soothing and most convincing voice. And he was completely sure that everything will be taken care of, come hell or high water, not even Tywin Lannister could make him break that promise. And yet there’s a niggling feeling in him that it wasn't his father who was behind it.

When he spoke with Pia at the main office it seemed that the order didn't come from his father’s office but elsewhere and with a high enough authority to trump him. It’s not below his father to use to his advantage though. Now he was being forced to show up to the office and that was all it took for his father to intervene.

He won’t deny that he’s pissed off with whoever concocted this. It was one thing to mess with him but to mess with his work and someone else’s work was another. He just knows that this will cause unnecessary stress and pressure with Brienne.

‘Jaime,’ Brienne called for his attention again.

‘Trust me,’ he said squeezing Briennes tightly gripping hands. They were big and solid even under his and yet there was vulnerability as it shook.

She looked at his hand and for a moment he thought she was going to pull hers away but she folded her other hand over his and squeezed back. And he knew for some inane reason she believed she could trust him. She trusts him.

Cersei didn’t.

Before he realized it they were stopping in front of the warehouse and Brienne was calmed down or as calm as she pretends to be. There was firmness in her lips and determination in her plain face.

Jaime realized at that moment that he didn't like it when she’s not looking his way. He always seemed have to do something to get her attention. He wondered why she was looking so far ahead, always straight ahead instead of looking at him? Wasn't he a much better sight to look at? Why were they always looking away from him?

His chest tightened and a bout of irritation flared in his gut.

‘I’m dropping you off. I have to go somewhere.’ He said more callously than required. Brienne just looked at him before nodding and opening her door to get off.

She walked towards the warehouse with the same determined stride he saw on her face as if she was ready for anything. Without a second glance his way.

With clenched fist he quickly got off the car and followed Brienne.

She gasped when he pushed her inside and pressed her on the close metal door in quick succession of moves.

‘W-what? Jaime!’ She blinked multiple of times, her blue eyes hiding behind her lids before it remained looking at him and filling the gnawing space that emptied when she walked away.

‘Look at me,’ he murmured. His voice sounded foreign, he didn't think he was pleading but commanding but either way Brienne heeded.

‘What is it?’ She said, motionlessly pressed and caged by his body. She was built solidly just like her big hands, maybe manlier than three quarters of the men he knows. But he knows that her skin is smooth, that her freckles look sugary, her legs delicious, her hips beguiling. And at that moment he wanted all of it to be his. He'd do anything for it all to be his. No, it’s not love but he wants her. Gods must be crazy for making him so want her.

He is a selfish man after all. He’s just a man after all.

He stepped away from Brienne who was both confused and flustered. And he wanted to devour her, inhale her, consume her at that very second. He wanted to so much it hurts. He wanted to touch her but his hands just wouldn't move.

Her blue eyes gazing at him were so clear, unblemished, so clean. And his hands, his hands weren’t clean.

‘I’ll… I’ll be back.’ He quickly left and he was almost running when he got into his car. He started the engine before he could get out again and go back to Brienne. Kiss her senseless until she would succumb to him, fuck her until she’s out of his system. He was sure this was all because it was a challenge. He was sure.

 

When he walked into his office, Pia was standing with her timid bobbed hair. She was fidgeting and he knew why.

He just nodded at Pia who worried her lips with her glassy eyes. Cersei was her usual bitch again for sure. Cersei had always disliked Pia for some reason. He had always taken it with smug satisfaction to think of Cersei jealous of another woman being close to him. Those times when she bitched about Pia or any other woman who happens to glance at him in her presence always led to intense fucks. She was more, say, accommodating to his wants.

He opened the door and true enough she was there with a glass half empty in her hands.

‘Jaime,’ she smiled like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. And he knew it was her.

‘Stop it.’

She didn’t play coy. They both knew they couldn't hide anything from each other anyways.

‘I’m not your slave to order, Cersei.’ He walked to his desk and flipped through the documents that were placed there. They were probably of no import and was just there to keep up appearances as per Pia’s design no matter that everyone knew he hasn't showed up for work in weeks.

Cersei laughed in her perch on his desk. He used to think that her laugh was musical and something he'd like to hear every waking hour just as much as her moans and sighs when he loved her body. But now it sounded like breaking glass, shattering to million pieces. It only signified destruction and possible pain to whoever tries to come close.

‘I’m just starting, Jaime.’ Her laugh cuts off and he looked up.

Cersei gracefully gulped down the remaining amber liquid in her glass. ‘Get away from the freak or I'll destroy it for you.’

He looked at her boredly. He almost wondered what had kept him on her side all these years. But that would be ridiculous because he knows why. Despite the ugly scowl on her face now, Cersei used to be someone he knew perfectly with the bright smile and vibrant beautiful eyes. The charming golden girl to his doting impressionable younger self. 

But he had missed the turning point when she started to become manipulative rather than genuinely charismatic, the bright smile turned seductive from being just amiable, eyes alluring, beckoning all those that were weak enough to fall prey and even those who thought themselves strong.

I fell for it. And it is hard to claw my way up.

Even all the hate and the eyes seeing Cersei's vile parts, he still wanted her. His ego boasts that only he can wipe the scowl off her face, make her keen rather than snarl, make her moan rather than whine.

And Cersei knew it. She licked her lips, sucking in the last drop of wine as if afraid to miss the bit of alcohol left. Oh, how many times have those lips and small tongue made him climax that he felt ready to collapse.

I felt filthy and repulsive but the hatred so easily turned into lust. When her soft hands touched me, it was so potent my skin tingled alive. My stomach churned and my balls turned heavy.

‘You’re mine, Jaime.’ Cersei whispered to my ears as she bit it and her soft hands cupped my irrational hardening cock.

Damn you, Brienne!

It was surely her fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I ever mention I suck at proofreading?


	19. Chapter 19

It was weird. Definitely weird. Weird, weird, weird.

She glanced back again at Jaime who was still quietly sitting where he took sit a few hours ago after being gone pretty much the rest of the day after he dropped her off earlier.

He had remained quiet and unwilling to meet her eyes. He hadn’t touched her.

His hair was wet and he smelled of a soap and shampoo she didn’t recognize. And he was wearing the same clothes.

She didn’t want to think too much of it but her brain was a master of itself and no one else’s.

She tried to focus on her work, she needed to produce, to make something that will be worthy enough to get someone’s attention and buy it. And yet her mind just continuously goes back to where he is, to where he’d been, with whom he was with. It’s been a while since she’d been like this. It’s laughable.

It was so laughable she was getting mad at herself and with him. She is a person who had long surpassed this kind of pining and thinking and overthinking. She should have been way passed over this. And yet it frustrates her to realize that what she had told herself so many times before just seemed to be lies, nothing but empty words she used to placate herself and appease her own ego.

In frustration she flung the chisel she was holding and it clattered nosily hitting several objects as it descended on the ground.

At least it startled Jaime out of his own world.

He just looked at her. There was a forlorn look in his eyes, there was such self-loathing and disgust in it that she was shocked before he looked away.

‘What was that for?’ He asked in a manner that imitates his usual nonchalance yet failing, getting up from his seat he hadn’t moved from for hours. He still evaded her gaze as he walked towards the coffee percolator.

She just watched his turned back, his broad shoulders and his curling golden hair, she didn’t answer him as she realized that he was not going to talk to her about where he was or what was he thinking at that moment, not that she wanted to know. Why would she want to? It’s not like he owes her anything, not an explanation for sure.

Just because Jaime was goofing around with her, she had foolishly started having expectations beyond her. That was why she knew this was dangerous, dangerous for her own sanity.

With a huff, she stood up and muster her resolve to get over whatever dim-witted things she had let to flow in her brain for an hour too long.

She walked up to where Jaime was standing and pointedly ignored him as she made coffee for herself.

‘Do you want some?’ She asked him.

She knew Jaime was staring at her as if bewildered that she was talking with him as casually as she could.

She made enough coffee for two and grabbed her usual mug.

If he didn’t want to talk, Brienne was never much for prying.

She drunk her coffee quietly and with a much clearer mind picked up the chisel she had thrown earlier. Thinking after all was not her forte.

 

It was already past midnight when she noticed Jaime standing beside her.

She looked up at him.

‘What is it?’

‘Time for bed. It’s late.’ He said.

Brienne had to do a comical double take when he spoke.

He was looking away with his hand unconsciously combing his hair.

‘Okay.’ She dusted her hands and made way for the bathroom.

‘Brienne…,’ Jaime called her just before she was about to close the door. She waited for him to say something else but he just shook his head and walked towards the bed.

When she stepped out most of the lights were turned off casting the warehouse in part darkness. However, light coming from the outside illuminated the lying figure on the bed. Jaime was on the bed with his eyes closed. The tension on his arms under his head though belies the sleep he was trying to feign in the shadows cast upon his still form.

She sat at the edge of the bed and meticulously dried her hair.

Jaime didn’t move an inch seemingly willing himself to continue the ruse of being asleep. She tossed her towel and lay down beside him.

For a while she just unseeingly stared at the high ceiling, watching the shadows play with the darkness. She could hear Jaime’s breathing, the unsteady breath he pulls and the deep sighs were loud enough to keep her from falling asleep.

It could have been just minutes or an hour until Jaime stirred.

‘Brienne,’ she felt him turn towards her as he called her name sure that she was as awake as he was.

She looked at him, green eyes staring at her intently. It was too dark to fully comprehend what he was thinking or feeling or telling with his furrowed brow and dark eyes.

He scooted closer as he pushed his one hand under her, pulling her body close to his. She didn’t say a word and kept quiet and pliable in his arms.

‘Brienne,’ he called in a murmur close to her ears again. ‘I’ll be away for a few days.’

‘Hmmm,’ she hummed in acknowledgement not knowing how she was supposed to act or what she was supposed to say.

Jaime spoke as if the warehouse was his home already, that him not showing up for a few days would be something that she will mind. That was not the case, not at all.

‘I’ll be back,’ he promised. ‘Brienne.’ He kept saying her name that she’s half annoyed and half beguiled by his voice and what he was saying meant.

She felt him tighten his hold on her middle, pulling her impossibly closer. Jaime nuzzled the back of her neck and again she let him. In her mind, she told herself she didn’t care. She didn’t care that he was leaving, that she didn’t care he didn’t tell her where he’d been, she told herself in her mind she didn’t care if he comes back.

But she did. She cared so much she could only grip his arm wrapped around her and feel his breath on her nape.

She nodded and Jaime kissed the skin behind her ear.

‘I’ll come back…sooner than you think.’ They said promises were made to be broken, not kept. But at that moment every fiber of her being held on to his words, believing that the certainty of his voice will ring true when he comes back.

 

After the sleepless night they rouse together before the break of dawn. Wordlessly, she made coffee as he went to the small bathroom and washed his face. They silently sipped their coffee, the monotony of the act mocking the heaviness of the parting Brienne felt.

Jaime had stood by the door as she forwent her run that morning.

It was clear that Jaime was not enthusiastic to go wherever he was going, it lightened the dark in her heart to know that. In Jaime’s arms, she stopped thinking of reasons why he had to leave. She stopped guessing as to who he was going to see. In the darkness of the night and the shadows that faltered she had fully handed her trust to his promise completely.

She watched as Jaime pushed a few of his items on a duffle bag and did not comment when he also deemed it alright to take one of her plaid shirts. It should bother her that it actually fits him but the gesture unwittingly just warmed her heart in the recesses of herself she dare not acknowledge. When everything seemed to be packed up, after a few unnecessary unpacking and repacking, there was no more excuse left to linger.

‘I’m taking this as well.’ Jaime said as he scooped the pillow she uses off the bed. He looked at her as if daring her to contradict the claim his arms had put around the thing. She just gave him a non-committed shrug.

Jaime approached where she was seating and opened his mouth as if wanting to say something but there were no audible words but instead she saw what she wanted to think as mere imaginations but there was no fooling herself. There was confused longing as Jaime looked at her. There was no more space left to doubt that he wanted to be with her.

‘Go.’ She said to him, not brave enough to touch him in fear that she would show her own version of longing. ‘Do what you have to do. I’ll stay here. I’ll wait.’

Jaime dropped his duffle and pulled her up.

‘Why is it so hard to leave you behind, wench?’ He asked seemingly to himself.

His hug was firm and she knew it was up to her to get him moving.

‘Go, old man. I’ll see you soon.’ He pulled back feigning aghast allowing for the effect that she wanted to get from poking at a touchy issue with him. He scowled at her and she couldn’t help finding him adorable. And he knew it.

‘Give this old man a kiss before he goes.’ He tugged at her hand. ‘Make it count.’ He had a grin on his face but she knew there was sincerity to it.

She pulled her hand out of his grasp and cradled his stubbly jaw. She liked the feel of it on her palm and she found herself stroking it wanting to embed the memory of it on her skin.

When she caught his eyes, they were staring intently as if taking stock of her as well. Why he would want to memorize her unsightly face she’d never ask. His lips called to her and with all her inexperience, she bridged the space between them and took what she wanted out of him and gave him what he asked for.

She knew she was clumsy with all the understatement. But Jaime was indulgent, gentle, and just as greedy as she was. His hands cradled her head, caressing and forceful at the same time. She put all the instincts she had accumulated from the kisses he had bestowed on her.

She let her inhibitions melt away and for the first time allowed herself to completely let go, to do what she wanted to do. And Jaime willingly allowed her to be free.

He tasted like the sun, warm and strong. It filled her with emotions so foreign and invigorated her senses but it was overwhelming, the power, and the sensations of his touch and his lips with hers. Her body burned and there was an electric pulse beneath her skin wanting for more, more touches, more connection. The need to get closer and to feel bare skin was overflowing.

She gave and took as much as she could but the inevitable was to occur in the end. She felt him giving a gentle push.

Jaime kept cradling her face in his hands. She tried to look away, dawning of how wanton she had been.

‘You’re tormenting me surely.’ Jaime said as he forced her face to look at him. ‘I’d definitely get you for this one.’ He said and she didn’t pretend to not understand as she felt his hardness pressing on her as he pulled her in a tight embrace. ‘We’ll definitely continue this if it’s the last thing I’d do, wench.’

‘Promises,’ she grumbled as she buried her face on his neck. Jaime just laughed.

And then he was gone. Had she known the circumstances of their next meeting she wonder if she would have done things differently. Wondering is all she could do looking back.


End file.
